The Occluded Soul
by Aurette
Summary: Severus Snape did what he thought he needed to do to get the job done and broke himself.  Years later, Hermione Granger realizes that he had been counting on her to fix him. Dark, SS/HG. AU after HBP
1. Clutching at Straws and Sticks

**Aurette's Most Epic Author's Note Ever:** Surprise! It's me again. I will be taking time off from fanfic in November, and wanted to get my finished stories up before then. Therefore, they will be spammed up rather quickly. I know, what a bummer. However, there is a caveat. This one has been alpha'd every step of the way, by my glorious team of **Hebe GB** and **Dressagegrrrl**, but it has **not been beta'd**. Therefore, you are stuck with my lack of comma sense throughout, and my addiction to taking up lost clauses, which Dgrrrl keeps trying to break me of, but I cannot seem to get the hang of. (Example!) I promise I will get it ironed out at a later date. However, this will give you an understanding of the Majesty that is my Betateam… Or something.

In this story, I not only tossed out the Epilogue for DH, but I decided to toss 99.9% of DH completely. It occurred to me that many of my favorite fics were the ones written after HPB, when we didn't know why he did what he did, or how it would end. I've decided to take a stab at it, for nostalgia's sake. This twisted tale has elements of both humor, and horror. I've dubbed it Flark, because that sounds much better than Duffy. It contains strong violence, but I leave most of the gross to your imaginations. There are also elements of Hurt/Comfort, Drama, Angst, Romance, Tragedy, The Kitchen Sink, and a Cat, for good measure. I was bored…

Righto, on with the fun… **Not Mine, No Money**, all chars belong to **Herself**.

* * *

Professor Snape lifted his head from the essay he'd been marking and went still. Whatever had disturbed him neither repeated nor announced itself. After a silent moment of listening to the quiet of the castle at midnight, he returned to his marking.

It was most likely nothing, but everyone's senses were on alert. Dumbledore had left Hogwarts with the Potter brat hours ago, and Snape didn't need the pricking of his thumbs to know something wicked was coming. Even Dumbledore had felt it and warned him. The other staff members were patrolling the hallways, supplemented by two Order members. Snape stayed in his rooms. He wasn't sure which Snape would leave them, the teacher, or the Death Eater. Certainly none of his other carefully constructed personas were needed tonight, so he kept his Occlumency shields in place and his psyche poised between the two.

It made marking essays interesting at least.

He was in the middle of Granger's tiresome essay on the uses of, and defense against, Soul Magic. The girl was on the right track, but, as usual, she lost herself in minutiae and missed the nuance. The girl was admirably bright and, given time, might really make a difference in the world, not that he would ever tell her, but she could be utterly obtuse in the most frustrating manner.

The teacher marked harshly, but slipped in clues to further her research in the form of disparaging remarks because it amused him to do so.

The Death Eater, hovering just at the edges of his mind, sneered and knew she would never get the chance. Her kind would be destroyed, and she would have no use for such knowledge. A waste of resources to be sure, but hiding clues to direct her research was a foolish and weak attempt to ignore the inevitable.

Snape shuddered and pushed the Death Eater farther back into its box but kept the lid cracked open. Years of practice made him adept at juggling the personas—a needed ability in order to survive his role as double agent—but even years couldn't make him comfortable with it.

His Death Eater persona, built up and maintained with impulses normal people either denied they had or kept submerged, had become stronger and more than a bit addicting during the last few years. There was always the temptation to embrace it, to allow himself to devolve. He was wise enough to know that only folly and ruin waited down that path. He had let his darker side rule him once and had spent the rest of his life trying to make amends.

It was equally tempting to lock that box forever. Eradicate all of those violent and petty thoughts once and for all. But that way also led to ruin. He needed it to survive even five minutes under the Dark Lord's scrutiny. He needed it to hold his own against the constant and unending tearing and pulling from the ambitions of the other Death Eaters. All of his self-protective instincts were bound up in his darker side. If he lost them he'd probably end up in St. Mungo's next to Lockhart.

A shout in the hall brought his head up, as his body shot up out of the seat. Wand in hand, he stepped around his desk, as his door burst open, and Filius raced in, short legs pumping.

"Severus! Death Eaters! There are Death Eaters in the school! You must come, there's fighting everywhere!"

Snape closed his eyes for only a moment. When he opened them again Filius shrank back from what he saw. The diminutive teacher's eyes rolled up as the silent _Stupefy_ hit him. Snape winced as the man hit the floor hard. He shook off the impulse to see if his coworker was injured and shoved the simple teacher farther into its box. Donning his cloak, he raced out of the room and right onto two students hovering outside his door.

Lovegood and Granger stared at him with surprise and… concern. The concern twisted like a knife in his gut.

"Professor Flitwick has collapsed. I want the two of you to take care of him. Stay with him. There's danger in the school and I must go see to it."

The Lovegood girl turned immediately and went after her Head of house. Granger stared at him with her enormous brown eyes and lifted an unsteady hand towards him.

"Be careful, sir," she said.

He recoiled from the outstretched hand without a reply and raced away.

He pounded through the castle, ignoring everyone until he saw Gibbon. He grabbed his arm and barked out, "Where?" Gibbon pointed him in the right direction and turned away. Snape raced toward the Astronomy Tower, right through the thickest fighting and up the stairs. He paused for a moment and listened to the voices of Amycus and Alecto urging Draco on with the deed.

So. It had come.

He slammed the lid down on every thought or impulse that could ruin everything and fully embraced the Death Eater. He shoved the box into the furthest reaches of his psyche and threw open the door.

The Dark Mark hung in the sky like the rotted sail of a ghostly ship, illuminating the tableau. Dumbledore was disarmed and at the mercy of the four Death Eaters and his godson. The critical part of his mind assessed his mentor and employer and saw his time was much more than limited, it was upon him. He pushed past Draco, shoving the boy roughly out of the way.

"We've a problem, Snape," said Amycus. *

Snape ignored him. He had eyes only for Dumbledore sagging against the parapet next to two brooms and looking at him with hope.

"Severus…"*

Snape's anger and sense of betrayal grew. It swelled and engulfed him. That this man, whom he'd come to love as a father, would ask such of him… The Death Eater sneered. This is what love brings you.

"Severus… please…"*

The hatred slipped its leash.

"_Avada Kadavra!"*_

* * *

Time seemed to slow. Snape stared in numb fascination as the light faded from Dumbledore's eyes and his body pitched backwards towards the edge of the parapet. An intense pain, a wrongness, spread from his chest outwards towards the tips of his limbs.

Time stopped. Dumbledore's body hung suspended in the air as a roaring, tearing, cracking sound blocked everything else from Snape's ears. Pain like no other seared his bones. Fear clawed at him. A primal terror overwhelmed him. Images assaulted him.

It was then that he understood. He saw himself black and swollen with power, ruling at the Dark Lord's side. He saw himself paralyzed with fear and unmanned by his failure to get his message to the boy, as the Dark Lord's murderous serpent floated closer in its cage. He saw the bodies of all the Muggleborn students lying in a heap and knew he had ordered their deaths. He saw the last of the Marauders, Lupin, and his future wife lying dead on the school grounds and knew they had a child they would never see again. He stared into the dull, flat, dead eyes of his favorite Know-it-All and reveled in the knowledge that she would never discover the secrets of Soul Magic. He heard Albus's voice gently chiding him. _"You alone know whether it will harm your soul…" _

Soul Magic. That was the pain. That was the fear. He'd made a terrible mistake. He should have done it with love, instead he'd locked love away in order to be able to do it.

As if understanding triggered the return of time, he saw Dumbledore's body start to slide away from him. He reached into the recesses of his mind and scrabbled frantically in the dark for the correct box as the pain tore through him. He clawed the lid off the box just as his soul started to burn. He couldn't find love. He whimpered as he fumbled through his own mind. The pain was overwhelming and he screamed and lost control of all his boxes—his carefully tagged and filed emotions and feelings, his needed constructs. His vision blurred and he knew he was faced with two possible futures. One, to die for the Light a failure—he saw himself accept that fate. Watched himself grab Draco and flee from the castle. The other future was to embrace the Dark and cheat death itself—he watched himself accept that fate as well. Watched as he searched for the owner of the second broom and captured the boy he'd sworn to protect. He felt his soul tearing and grabbed desperately for anything that would give him a third option. He could no longer see anything at all.

"Oh, Albus, what have I done? I've done it wrong!"

Severus Snape felt himself descend into the dark and clawed at the bright, broken straws of light that lay all around him, searching for the least bit of love. An image of Granger, lifting her shaking hand towards him, floated across his wildly spinning mind. For a moment he felt such a surge of hope and purpose. He reached out to grab her hand, as his mind shattered with a thunderous crack, and he slid into the darkness clutching burning straws in his hands.

* * *

_Five Years Later…_

"And next on our list we have Miracle Man. Now, he's an interesting case. We keep him in good physical shape and the lights are on, but he's not home at all, if you know what I mean. He follows orders, so it's easy to put him through the exercises, but he won't stop unless you tell him to. So you need to remember that. You might want to make a note of it. He needs to be told to stop what he's doing or he'll over do it. Sad really, he's a bit of a zombie. Oh hi, Mike. I thought you were on nights."

"Morning Jen. It still is night for me. Who's this then?"

"Mike, meet Meg. Meg, this is Mike. He's one of our HCA's. Meg here's the new Physio on the team. Means I might actually be able to get a holiday soon. She's shadowing me today."

"Pleased to meet you, Luv. If you ever need a hand, just give me a yell."

"Thank you. Mike, right?" Meg shook the young man's hand and smiled.

"You got it. So who's your next victim?"

"Be nice. I'm about to introduce Meg to Miracle Man."

"Oh ho! You'll like him. He's not much for conversation, but he's easy enough to work with. I was about to take him for his bath."

"Shouldn't you be going home? Annie's in charge this morning. You look wiped out."

"I wanted to get Miracle Man and Splatter Bob done before I left. Things were a bit wild last night and I ran behind."

"Well, we're about to put Miracle Man through his paces. You should go home, and we'll let Annie know he still needs a bath when we're done."

"We'll see. Nice to meet you Meg."

Meg watched him walk away.

"He seems like a nice bloke."

"Mike? He's the best. He takes his job seriously, too. A little too serious for such a young man, perhaps. He'll still be here when we go on break if we don't watch out. He tends to be a little possessive of his favorite patients and Miracle Man's one of his favorites."

They walked down the ward towards their next patient.

"Why do you call him, Miracle Man?"

"It's his story, see? He's a bit mysterious. He's been here for three years now. A tramp with no ID that they found in an alley. He was severely epileptic. Seizures around the clock, bad ones too. He suffered from dementia, back before the surgery. He'd say the strangest things. We were never quite sure to start with whether he should be with us, or with the Mental Health lot in Broadmoor. Seemed to always be going on about how he'd murdered all these people although the police never matched him to any crimes. He was never violent with us—seemed as harmless as any in his condition, so here he stayed.

"At first the meds worked, seizures were infrequent and he had lucid moments. Although he still had no idea who he was, poor man. Unfortunately, he built up a tolerance to all the medications and fell back into frequent episodes. Eventually, no medications worked for him. They had no choice but to consider surgical options, try and remove the damaged areas causing the seizures. And even though they couldn't see any damage on scan, they went in anyway and removed the two small sections of the brain that were where his seizures always started.

"It was the only option left to try and give him some small quality of life. By that point he was constantly episodic. The surgery worked. He was cured. He still had no memory of anything before he arrived, but we were all set to release him to one of the Council run care facilties."

"What happened?"

"Well, he started to lose certain functions. Fine motor control first, then speech. Finally he slipped away into a coma. It was dreadful, we'd all had such hopes for him."

"I'm not seeing the miracle here," Meg said.

"It was after he spontaneously woke up, wasn't it?. They ordered a new set of brain scans. MRI, PET, the works. That's when they found the miracle. The parts of the brain they'd removed? They'd grown back. Like magic."

"That's impossible. How long was he in the coma?"

"Four months."

"That's just not possible."

"I know. That's why we call him Miracle Man. Sadly, it wasn't a complete miracle. We can help keep his body as fit as we can, but his mind is gone. Unless he has another miracle up his sleeve, he'll be with us or in some care home for the rest of his life." Jen said, pushing open the door with her hip.

"What did you call him before the miracle?"

"Sir Nose, but not when Sister Annie or the Unit Manager's about, they're sticklers for protocol. If she's on duty address him as Mr. Smith, John Smith. Original, isn't it?"

Sitting in a chair, staring at the wall, sat Miracle Man. He wore a pair of khaki trousers and a light-blue jumper. His chart said he was between forty and fifty. Tall and slender, with a slight stoop to his shoulders, he had fine, black hair, shot through with grey and long enough to cover his ears and get in his eyes. He had sharp features, high cheekbones, with an angular jaw, and a razor slash of a nose that accounted for his previous nickname.

It was his eyes that were disturbing. They were nearly black, surrounded by the thick lashes women would kill for. They were also flat and lifeless. Meg shuddered. She'd seen many patients in varying stages of dementia and unresponsive waking states, but she'd never seen one that looked like he didn't know he was already dead.

"He's a bit scary, isn't he? He wasn't always like this. He used to be a bit of a terror. Nasty, but with an ungodly wit.

"John, stand up."

Meg watched as the patient rose smoothly from the chair.

"What's he got in his hands?"

"His sticks. Sister Annie calls them his magic wands. He's had them since he was first admitted. They used to calm him. Actually, the knobby looking one does seem to soothe when you rub it. He'll put them down if you ask. About the only thing he'll do for himself is pick them up again if you wait too long to give them back or if you seem to be too interested in them."

"John, walk over to me, please." As the man walked over to Jen, Meg was struck by his gait. He didn't shamble or shuffle as she'd expected. He moved with a steady grace that was highly unusual in cases such as this. "Hold your arms out." The patient did. "Stretch them up to the ceiling for me." Again, he followed orders easily. "Very good. Hold them out to—wait, may I have your sticks please?" John Smith held open his hands and Jen plucked the sticks off his palms. "Now, hold your hands straight out to your sides and point your fingers. Yes, that's perfect. Now with your right hand, touch your nose. Very good. And back. Now your left, touch your nose. Excellent. You may relax your arms." Jen turned to Meg. "You see? Balance, coordination—he's as graceful as a ballet dancer. But he's just not there. Not that we can reach, anyway."

Meg pointed at the treadmill in the corner. It looked to be twenty years out-of-date and badly in need of a service. "Why do you have this ancient thing? And why keep it in his room?"

"Oh, John here is the only one that uses that, don't worry. He has a tendency to break the fancier models. Too many computerized gizmos and he ruins them."

Meg laughed. "He breaks them intentionally?"

"No, they just short out around him. That's why we do this in here rather than near the other equipment. They have to sedate him completely to do a scan; the machines won't work properly if he's awake.

"Alright, John. Let's get you walking. Walk to the treadmill in the corner—you always have to clearly state where it is or he'll just stand there. Step up on the treadmill. Let me just get you set here."

"Hello ladies, how's Miracle Man coming along?"

"Mike, you should be on your way home."

"I just thought if you were going to be done soon—"

"Go _home_," Jen ordered firmly

Meg had been facing Mike in the doorway, so it wasn't until Jen said, "No, John," that she turned her head and saw it. The patient had plucked the sticks out of Jen's hands. She'd only managed to snatch the knobby one back before the John Smith started to spin, like he was going to do a pirouette. There was a loud crack, as if lightning had struck just outside the walls, and then the patient . . . disappeared.

* * *

Doris Shunpike was working the police dispatch when the call came through from the Susan Freedman Rehabilitation Ward. She was good at her job. Both of them. Born a squib, Doris was one of those precious few in the Muggle world that were paid by both worlds. She'd taken calls like this a handful of times before in her fifteen years on the job and knew exactly what to do.

* * *

Meg drained the cold cup of coffee that she'd been nursing for almost three hours now. She looked over at Mike and Jen and saw the same dazed disbelief that she knew was still etched on her face. The hospital administrators had threatened them unless they told the truth. Security had separated them and questioned them individually. Finally, they'd been allowed lunch and shoved into this small conference room until the police arrived. They'd compared notes briefly but conversation had faded fairly quickly after that. How did one talk about what couldn't possibly be real?

The door opened and two gentlemen came through. The first was a tall black man, bald, with a musical voice and a kind smile. The second one was younger, about twenty-three. He had black hair, that tended towards messy, and round glasses. He also had a pleasant, reassuring smile.

"I'm sorry you all had to wait so long. We needed to clear a few things up with your superiors before we questioned you. I'm Chief Inspector Shacklebolt and this is Inspector Potter."

"Shouldn't we have some kind of representation?" asked Jen, nervously.

"No, no. That won't be necessary. You're not going to be charged with anything. We just need to ask you some questions to clear the matter up before we find your missing patient. We've been briefed as to his medical history here at the hospital. We were just hoping if you could do us a favor and describe Mr. John Smith for us?"

"I can do better than that. Here." Mike pulled out his cell and started to scroll through the functions. "I've got a picture of him. I always take pictures of my favorite patients." He handed the phone over to the younger man. Meg watched as the young man reacted to the picture with a gasp. He handed the phone over to his Senior Officer who also seemed shocked. There was a spark, and the cell went dark. The Chief Inspector handed the phone back to Mike with an apologetic wince.

"Do you know him?" asked Jen. "He's been here for years. You blokes checked him out from top to bottom when he first arrived."

"Yes. Yes, we know him," said the older man. "Tell me, do you have anything of his? Did he leave behind any personal effects?"

"Just one of his sticks," said Jen. "He's always had them. He never put them down unless we asked and only for a short time. I took this one away from him just before he–when he vanished." She held up the lighter-colored knobby one.

Again, the younger Officer seemed surprised. "That's Dumbledore's!" he blurted out, taking it from Jen.

The older man turned on them. "I need you to explain exactly what you saw happen today. Don't leave out the slightest detail.'

"Is he in trouble?" asked Mike.

Both men exchanged a look before the younger one answered. "No. No trouble at all. We just need to get a better picture of what's happened."

Meg didn't have to be a psychic to know when she was being lied to.

* * *

Meg got home a bit late from her first day at her new job. She was exhausted. The day had seemed to go by fairly quick. All she'd done was follow the other Physio, Jen, around and didn't do much besides take extensive notes, but for some reason she was overwhelmingly tired and her head felt like it was trying to explode. She sat down on her sofa and fell into an exhausted sleep.

* * *

In a run-down area on the outskirts of Manchester, a man sat on a rusty swing-set and stared, with flat, lifeless eyes, at a partially-demolished block of terraced houses. The sound of car horns didn't disturb him. The wail of an unhappy infant didn't affect him at all. The sound of a drunken fight floating out on the evening breeze didn't faze him in the least. But at the barely noticeable pops of two people Apparating a block away, his head snapped up and his dead eyes came to life, full of glittering malice. The swing let out a quiet squeak as the man stood up and slipped away into the night, clutching his last remaining stick.

* * *

*Dialogue from JK Rowling.

Reviews from you.


	2. The Dream Begins

AN: Any britpicking errors are mine as well. I noodled a LOT between now and when Hebe saw it last... If you see me say closet, know that she is in the process of chucking a shoe at me over a very long distance.

* * *

Harry flopped down onto Hermione's couch in a graceless heap and buried his head in his hands. Ron came back from her kitchen with three bottles of beer and set two on the coffee table.

"We had him!" Harry said again. He'd repeated that phrase at least six times, since he and Ron had showed up on her doorstep at two in the morning.

"I know, mate. I know," repeated Ron.

Hermione leaned over and picked up a beer. "Look, even if Healer Pye's theory is right, and he did somehow manage to heal his own brain after their surgery, you said he was still damaged into obliviousness. How could he possibly have known you were there?" she asked.

"Muggle witnesses saw him sitting there all afternoon," answered Ron. "But by the time we tracked the magical residue to Alecto's wand and then to the park, he was gone. The seat on the swing was still warm. He had to have sensed us."

"Three years," moaned Harry. "He'd been there for three sodding years! Why didn't we check hospitals sooner?"

"Harry, it's not worth beating yourself up," Hermione said with more than a little exasperation. "We all thought Snape was dead. It was the only thing that made sense. He was _insane_, Harry. He wouldn't have stopped unless he'd _been_ stopped. You can't blame yourself for everything, leave some guilt for other people."

Harry's head snapped up and even Ron gave her a frown and a slight shake of the head. Hermione sighed. "I'm sorry. That didn't come out right. I'm just tired."

Harry scrubbed his face with his hands. "No, you're right. I'm just worried. Things seem to be coming to a head and a coincidence like this just throws me. Death Eater activity has picked up. Voldemort's stirring in my head again. And now we find and lose Snape in the same day. It's just too much. We still haven't found all the Horcruxes. Draco and Remus turned up nothing. We know there's at least one other, and we have no idea if he's made anymore. Until we eliminate them all, Snape can spend the rest of his _life_ killing the Dark Lord and it won't do anyone any good. I just wish—" Harry fell silent on that last wish. They all knew what it was. They'd all repeated it so often in that first year, after Snape had killed the Headmaster. _'I just wish Dumbledore would wake up.'_

The Order had struggled along these last five years without his guidance. His portrait continued to sleep. Minerva had consulted several portrait makers but they all confirmed Bill Weasley's suspicion that it was waiting for the right keywords to be spoken before it could. Everyone had tried everything they could think of. No one had succeeded.

It was four in the morning when Hermione finally closed the door on the boys. She still referred to them as the boys, and probably always would, despite the fact that they were both nearing their mid-twenties and married. Harry had two children with Ginny, and Ron's first with Lavender was due in three months.

Hermione herself had been well on her way to the same domestic status.

She and Ron had tried to make a go of things for a while, but eventually realized they were just confused about how to be friends with someone of the opposite sex. They'd opted for just friends. It had only taken a little while for the wrinkles to iron back out before they were good as new.

Then she'd fallen in love with Oliver Wood not long after, and had been very happy. It had been understood that they were in it for the long haul.

They'd been dancing around the topic of marriage when she'd suddenly been filled with a strange, restless malaise that seemed to be linked more and more to all things magical. Her fathomless curiosity about the Wizarding world seemed to have suddenly been fathomed. Being a witch seemed to be more trouble than it was worth.

The ongoing stress from the war had finally taken its toll.

On her mother's advice, she'd moved to Muggle London and taken a Muggle job. She'd perked back up quickly and found herself content again, right up until Oliver left her, unable to adjust to the changes she'd made. That had been three years ago. She'd been living in limbo ever since.

Part of her wanted to move back and resume her life as a witch, but the idea never seemed to gather steam. Instead, she stayed in her job as an office manager for an engineering supply company, threw herself into her charity work on the weekends, and ate dinner with her parents every Sunday. She told herself she was content, but it felt more like waiting. For what, she had no idea.

She gathered up the empty beer bottles and rinsed them out in the kitchen sink, before putting them in the recycling bin. She mopped up the spills and water rings on the table and walked over and shut off the lights. Crookshanks gave a lethargic trill and made a halfhearted attempt to rub his head on her calf. He missed.

"Come on, old man. Off to bed with us. Again."

She made her way to her bedroom, but instead of climbing back into bed, she went over to her chest of drawers. She tugged open the top left drawer and carefully pulled out an old shoe box. She took it over and sat on the end of her bed, while Crooks gave her a withering stare from the pillows and turned his back on her. Lifting the lid, she quickly pulled out her wand, her shrunken copy of Hogwarts: A History, and her shrunken down, tattered, book bag. Using the wand, she expanded the book bag and started to go through it and pull out varying scrolls, peeking at each and putting it aside until she found the one she been looking for. She shoved everything back in its place and crawled up the bed and leaned back against the headboard to better read the scroll by the lamp next to the bed.

_**Prof. S. Snape's Sixth-year**_

_**Defense Against Dark Arts Class**_

"_Possible Benefits of, and Proper Defense Against, Soul Magic, by Hermione J. Granger."_

She hadn't looked at this particular scroll in three years. Reading it had become a ritual of sorts whenever news of Professor Snape reached her. It wasn't because it was a particularly good essay—his biting commentary throughout, in his distinctive red, spiky script, put the cap on those thoughts. It was because it was the last scroll he'd marked before he'd gone insane.

It was days after Dumbledore's death that Professor Slughorn had approached her. He'd been given the thankless task of tidying up Snape's schoolwork. He'd been so sad when he'd handed her the scroll.

_"This was the last thing he worked on that night. He didn't even finish it. I did, though. My comments are in green. I think he graded you harshly. Your essay was fine and I graded it accordingly." _Slughorn had then looked off into a distant past. _"I thought I knew him," _he'd said to no one.

Hermione had sat down immediately and read the scroll, looking for some clue as to Snape's state of mind just before he'd rushed up to the top of the tower and killed Dumbledore.

Holding it in her hands now, she had no more understanding than before. If anything, his comments seemed slightly less biting. As if he was only going through the motions of being an arse. They lacked their normal ability to shame her into going one step further to prove he was wrong like they always had in the past. She reread her essay and could see that Snape's comments were, in fact, more germane. Slughorn had obviously graded her intent and gone easy. Even on the verge of a psychotic split, Snape still held her to the sharp blade of understanding.

As always, her eyes wandered to the one section where the two teachers' comments had overlapped. There was a passage there that left both men's comments unintelligible. Again, Hermione considered trying a spell that would remove the green ink, and again, she feared she would lose the whole if she tried.

She placed the scroll on the bedside table. The last time she'd looked at it, neither of her friends had been full-fledged Aurors. She would ask them their advice the next time they came by. For now, she needed to rest before her usual Saturday morning shift in the soup kitchen.

She clicked off the light and tried to catch a couple of hours sleep before her alarm went off. Crooks flicked his tail in her face in silent admonishment for failing to keep to the regular sleeping habits that cats thought were so important.

* * *

_Hermione stood on the moor in an oversized, cotton nightgown. The cold wind tore at her hair, creating in it a wild and willful beast. She turned around and saw a man, striding across the moor towards her. The same wind lifted the cape of his greatcoat and drove his tears back into his temples. She knew this man, as one does in the way of dreams, but she'd never seen him before. He dropped to the ground at her feet, thick, chestnut hair tossed wildly about his head as a sob was torn from his throat._

_"The murdered do haunt their murderers. I believe—I know that ghosts have wandered on earth. Be with me always—take any form—drive me mad! only do not leave me in this abyss, where I cannot find you! Oh God! it is unutterable!"*_

_The man grabbed at her nightgown and bunched it up in his hands. Lifting his head he looked straight into her soul with his glittering black eyes. _

_"Help me, Granger. You were the third choice." _

_The man had changed. Hermione looked down into the desolate face of Severus Snape, sprawled at her feet in his black teaching robes with blood trickling down his neck from the wounds on his face. She screamed. The scream became a high-pitched wail as the man flinched away and fell into blackness._

* * *

An arm came up out of the duvet and slapped angrily down on the alarm clock. Hermione lifted her head and looked around, blinking furiously until her eyes landed on the scroll sitting on top of the book she'd been reading before Harry and Ron had turned up.

"Right, no more Wuthering Heights before bed, Crooks." The half-kneazle just flicked an ear, knowing that this new rule would last just as long as all the others.

Hermione pushed off the blankets and fished around on the floor for her slippers. Eyeing the scroll and the book, she gave in to a sudden impulse and grabbed the book and started to flip through the pages. It didn't take long for her to find what she'd been looking for, she'd read the book several times.

"Listen to this, Crooks: 'Oh God! it is unutterable! I cannot live without my life! I cannot live without my soul!'* My scroll was about Soul Magic. Do you think Snape was trying to tell me something, old man?"

Crookshanks stood up and stretched, gracing her with a meaningful look, before leaping down and scurrying into the kitchen.

"Ah, so Professor Snape just needs to be fed. Quite right, I'm sure."

Hermione looked out into the chilly Autumn day outside her window and prayed that there was a meal for the lost man out wandering the world waiting for someone to tell him what to do. Even if he was a demented mass-murderer, Hermione thought Severus Snape deserved better cards than he'd been dealt.

* * *

A man crawled out of a large, cardboard box thrown into an alley the night before. He stared off into the dreary light of the chilly morning, clutching his stick tight as he swung his head around until he was facing southeast. His eyes, flat, black pools of lifelessness, seemed oblivious to his surroundings as he started to walk in that direction.

Another man, hurrying to work while stuffing himself with an egg sandwich, suddenly slumped to the ground, overcome by a brief fainting spell. When he woke, he was late for work and missing the remains of his breakfast.

He had his blood sugar checked on his lunch hour.

* * *

"Good morning, Sir Walter. How are the markets this morning, sir?"

"Ah, Miss Granger. The Markets are volatile. Bad doings in New York last night. Of course we're left to mop up their mistakes. It's a good time to sell the gold though. Insecurity always breeds fools. Sell it now, and buy it back in six months when they all realize they've been stupid. How are the scones this morning, my dear?" The man sitting on the pavement next to the rubbish skip gave her a polite, toothless smile, to go with his polite inquiry.

"We've had a bit of an overage, I fear. We're selling them at a discount to try and dump a losing share. I have two for you today."

"Well, someone's always ready to make a gain from another's loss. Let that be a lesson for you, girl. Never put all your money in consumables. I'll take them both, send the invoice to my secretary on your way out."

"I'll do that. And did your secretary remind you about your appointment with your personal physician?"

"Oh, dear. She must have forgotten. When was it again?"

"Noon today. He'll be stopping by your office."

"Ah, then I've just enough time to salvage this mess and then I'll cut out early. Have a good day, Miss Granger."

"You as well, Sir Walter. See you next week."

Hermione pushed her cart down the pavement looking for more of her regulars. Most of the homeless wandered in and out of the shelters on their own, but there were several, like Sir Walter, who were so far gone in their dementia that they didn't remember where one was. These were the ones Hermione kept track of on Saturday mornings.

She'd joined the group a few months before Oliver left. Deciding to help the homeless had been an almost random decision. It just seemed like the right thing to do at the time. She'd taken to it easily, and it had made her feel useful after Oliver had left. Now it was the highlight of her week.

"Good Morning, Alice. How's the new baby?" she asked a filthy old woman cradling a doll.

* * *

"How can you feel bad for him? He murdered your Headmaster, and all those other people. Honestly Hermione, you take up the strangest causes."

"It's more complicated than that, Mum. He went insane. For all we know, he was Imperiused. And all those other people were Death Eaters. And don't forget the Dark Lord. He killed _him_ twice."

"Does killing the one twice cancel out killing the other once? I think two Voldemorts and ten Death Eaters could equal one Dumbledore, I suppose. If we were playing poker."

"Dad, it's not funny. Okay, that was a little funny. Pass the potatoes?"

John Granger chuckled as he passed his daughter the serving bowl.

"So is it just the fact that he was almost apprehended that's got this all kicked up in your mind again? Or is there something else? "

Hermione's face clouded over for just a moment. "It just feels like unfinished business. More than that. It's like I was supposed to have done something but didn't."

Helen Granger reached out and clasped her daughter's wrist. "Do you think this is connected to your feelings about magic? Why you turned away from it?"

"Maybe. Perhaps. I don't really know. I think so. You know I've felt like I was waiting for something to happen for a while now. I feel like the wait might be over soon. Something's going to happen soon. I think Professor Snape is a part of it. Maybe his three years in that hospital are connected to my three years of indecisiveness. Or maybe I'm just coming to the end of my ennui finally, and his latest disappearance is just the push I need to get back to the real work of living."

"Well, I'm all for that, darling," her mother said with a squeeze.

"I think I'll start with that scroll."

Hermione explained about her paper and her unfounded feelings that it might be of some significance. Her parents, as always, listened to her intently, offering their opinions where appropriate. When she spoke about how she wanted to find a way to remove Slughorn's comments from the parchment, but her fear that after all this time she might accidentally remove all the ink, her father jumped up excitedly and hurried out of the room. Hermione and her mother exchanged bemused glances and started to clear away the dishes.

"So when are you going to bring me a new young man to fuss over like a normal daughter?" her mother said, with her usual mock-asperity. "Or a girlfriend? At this point I'll take either."

"Mum, don't be silly. You know I don't lean that way. Actually, I don't seem to lean any way these days."

"Well, I was just thinking that if your malaise was broken in one area, perhaps it's broken in the other as well. We're not magical, Hermione. We don't hit middle age and stay that way for fifty years. I want to see a dirty nappy before I'm too arthritic to change one."

"Mum, you don't have arthritis. And trust me, if there are dirty nappies in my future, I'll let you change them all."

"But then you'd miss out on one of the important joys of motherhood."

"You are truly a strange woman. I'll pass on that joy if possible."

Further conversation was interrupted when Mr. Granger gave a shout from his den and they heard him hurrying through the house.

"This should be interesting," her mother said.

"Here!" he said, as he hurried into the kitchen. "This might do the trick. Try these before you risk your scroll, dear." He handed her an old pair of paper glasses, the type they used to hand out at Three-D movies. One lens was red and the other was green. "If you place the green side over the ink, the green ink should disappear and the red ink will look black, and vice-versa. You should be able to read both of your teachers' comments."

"Dad, you're a genius!" she squealed, throwing her arms around her father. "I've got to go! I need to check this out!"

"Give us a call if it works, dear. I'm curious about that scroll myself."

"I will, dad. I love you! Love you, Mum!'

Hermione raced off and grabbed her coat and her handbag before hurrying out to her car. For the first time in years, she wished she'd had her wand with her so she could Apparate directly home.

* * *

_'As usual, Miss Granger, you seek to stand tall on your pillar of knowledge and completely miss the fact that without the blocks called, Sprague, Windlass and Eiderfold, your pillar is a stump, and you are as ripe for ridicule as ever. Try intuition, for once, Miss Granger. I hear it's all the rage among the popular crowd. Not that you'd know.'_

"That bastard!"

Hermione threw aside her father's paper glasses, unmindful of the fact that he'd obviously kept them as a memento.

Crooks slapped a paw down on them before they could fall off the bed. He slapped them around a few more times just to make sure they stayed in their place.

"I'd completely forgotten what an utter berk he was, Crooks. 'Popular crowd,' indeed. And who the hell are Sprague, Windlass and Eiderfold? They sound like a law firm." She let the scroll drop and watched as it rolled itself back up with a snap. "I think I'll send an owl to Minerva and ask if I can use the school library after work tomorrow."

* * *

*Quotes from Wuthering Heights, By Emily Brontë

(And as you can see, she was quite the grammatical trailblazer as well! Ha! I heart her.)

I can be bribed for more chapters with reviews. I am a cheap review hoor...

(pilky, your PM's are set to private!)


	3. The Constant Vigil

**AN: **Drive by chap spam!

* * *

_She stood on the moors again, batting her hair out of the way with her hand as she waited. She knew she was dreaming. She'd been here several times now. She waited for the heavy tread of boots behind her. They were always behind her, no matter which way she faced. When she heard them, she turned and saw the same man, his face always familiar in the dream, but never remembered when she woke. Her imaginary Heathcliff, weeping for his lost Catherine._

_He fell to his knees before her and recited the same passage as always. _

_She stretched her hand out and laid it upon his bowed head._

_"What was the third choice, Professor?" she asked this time, wrestling for control of the dream._

_He lifted his head and looked at her with piercing, black eyes. His face wasn't bleeding this time._

_"You were," he replied._

_They stared at each other for a long moment, she didn't know when the dream had shifted, but he was no longer on his knees before her, he was simply standing before her with his hands gripping her arms._

_"Why me?" she asked._

_He didn't answer her question. He just pulled her slowly towards him and said, "Find me."_

_She watched in fascination as his face loomed closer, his black eyes seemed to fill her entire world._

_The wind kicked up and began to wail around them. The moment she realized it was her alarm, Snape vanished, leaving her alone on the moor._

* * *

Hermione Apparated to the doorstep of Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place and spilled her armful of scrolls.

"Bugger!" She whipped out her wand and tidied them back up again, before pushing her way into the house. "Hello?"

The portrait of Mrs. Black stayed quiet behind her curtain. She'd been neutralized as a threat by Fred. Unable to get the painting off the wall, he'd found a way to charm the clothes off the painting. Mrs. Black was now a nude. No one had seen or heard from her in over two years.

"Hermione?" Harry's head popped around a doorframe.

"Hello, Harry! Ron and Lav here yet? I brought them a little something for the baby."

"Yeah, they're up in the library acting proud. The meeting's not due to start yet, so you have plenty of time to play Auntie. Is that your research?"

"Yes. I've made some fascinating discoveries about Soul Magic, and I've found several references to Horcruxes that are quite promising. I'll need to ask you a favor later_—_it's a big one_—_but first I need to see Dumbledore before I lose focus."

"You know where he is. Do you want me to take these?"

"Would you? Thanks." She dumped her scrolls into Harry's arms and pecked him on the cheek, before dashing off to the sitting room. Dumbledore's sleeping portrait had been moved to the Order's Headquarters because ideas for keywords couldn't always wait for it to be convenient for Hogwarts.

Hermione made her way to the Portrait hanging over the fireplace.

"Hello, Headmaster," she said. She always started with this formality. "Wuthering Heights." Nothing. "Heathcliff." Nothing. "Catherine." Silence. "Thrushcross Grange." "Edgar, Linton, Isabella…"

"Hermione, why are you tossing out names from Muggle Literature?"

Hermione turned and found Minerva watching her from the sofa across the room. Draco, Remus and Tonks were sitting there as well.

"Oh, hello! I'm sorry, how rude of me. I didn't even look to see if anyone else was in here."

"That much was obvious," said Tonks with a smile. "Have a burning intuition, do you?"

At Tonk's words, a strange feeling crept over Hermione. "Yes, in a way. I've been having these dreams. Recurring dreams, that are always basically the same but slightly different each time. I've started to wonder if they might have been a clue."

"Who's in them?" asked Remus.

"Professor Snape."

"Really?" asked Draco. "What are the dreams like?"

"It's always the same scene from the book Wuthering Heights. The scene where Heathcliff is upset because Catherine died and pleads to be haunted."

"Ugh," said Tonks. "that sounds like a nasty bit of business there. What a dreadful book."

"No, it's a marvelous book," said Minerva, staring at Hermione intently. "I read it as a girl, myself. Go on, Hermione. Keep trying."

Hermione turned back to the portrait and tried a few more names before starting in on quotations from the book. The others lost interest. Having people stand and chatter away at Dumbledore's portrait was a common experience.

She stopped and pondered her strategy. There was really no reason to think that her dreams were related to Dumbledore's portrait, but she simply felt there had been some sort of connection. It occurred to her, now that she was standing here, that she had one point turned backwards in her logic. In the dream, just like the book, Heathcliff had been asking to be haunted by the woman he loved. Hermione had somehow decided Snape was being haunted by Dumbledore, but that didn't make sense at all, now that she looked at it. Why would her subconscious assign such a well-known romantic tragedy to Snape's being haunted by the man he killed? Who would he mourn so much he could not let her go to her rest?

She closed her eyes and tried for intuition. She thought back on everything she'd learned about Snape since he'd snapped and started his two year killing spree. They had all talked about him non-stop, as if trying to exorcize him from their collective psyches. Finally, her memory fell upon two bits of information she'd almost forgotten. A comment Remus had made once, a long time ago, and a fact Harry had told her about that night on the Astronomy Tower.

She opened her eyes.

"Lily," she said.

The portrait jerked, as if startled in its sleep. The others in the room saw it and hurried over and pressed up behind her. Dumbledore opened his eyes and lifted his face, looking around at the people in the room who collectively held their breath. Then, to their horror, he just rested his chin on his chest and went back to sleep.

"Not the right voice," she said.

People in the room all started to call out Harry's mother's name, but to no avail.

Hermione raised her hand again and they fell silent. "Lily," she said again. The portrait twitched again, but didn't wake up. When she said it a third time, it didn't even twitch.

She stepped back from the portrait and the room exploded with voices. She turned and saw Mad-eye Moody and Arthur and Molly as well as Harry had joined the crowd.

Harry walked up to her and everyone fell silent again. "Why did you say that name? Why my mother?"

"I'm not sure. It was just… intuition. I think Professor Snape was in love with your mother, Harry. Or at least feels a great remorse for her death." She turned and waved a hand at the portrait. "I think we have the correct keyword, but we don't have the correct voice."

"What do you mean?"

"I think Snape was supposed to wake the portrait."

"Wake the man he killed? Why would he have told me to talk to the portrait, if he knew it couldn't wake without him?"

"Well, it could have been because he was crazy when he spoke to you on the tower. But maybe he didn't know. Maybe it was something Dumbledore did without his knowledge. I don't claim to understand, Harry. I could easily be wrong."

"I wouldn't be surprised if he was in love with Lily," said Remus. "Everyone was a little in love with Lily. The two of them had been good friends before they came to school. In fact they'd been good friends even at school until they had a falling out."

"When he called her a Mudblood," spit Harry.

"In the middle of being tormented by James, Harry," said Remus. "And he did try to apologize."

"He did?" Harry looked surprised by this new bit of information.

"Yes. He threatened to sleep outside the door to Gryffindor Tower until your mother forgave him. He made himself even more of a laughingstock. I don't know what she said to make him go away, but I know she never did forgive him."

"She didn't? But if he apologized, _why_?"

"It was the times, Harry. Snape was more and more aligning himself with the young Death Eaters and your mother was tired of trying to talk sense into him. I think it was easier to not forgive him and let him drift away than be pulled apart trying to be his friend any longer. He was a bitter young man, Harry. He was hard to like. But that doesn't mean he didn't feel."

"I think Remus is right," said Draco. "I'd heard rumors that he'd asked the Dark Lord to spare her life. People used to snicker about it behind his back when I was growing up."

"Then why did he tell Voldemort about the prophecy? Why did he have her killed?" Harry asked in a small voice.

"Because he was a Death Eater, and don't you forget it!" snapped Moody. "He was a bad egg then and he's a bad egg now." Moody stumped over to Hermione. "I see what you're doing. You're trying to make him into some tragic hero. Well, he's a murderer! You best keep that at the front of your mind, young lady. Constant vigilance!"

* * *

The order meeting had long since wound down, but no one had left yet. Hermione had cooed over Daisy, Ron and Lavender's baby girl, helped Ginny get little James and Lily into the bath, and ended the charm that Fred and George tagged on Draco's back that said "Free Hugs," before he'd realized why people were looking at him and smirking. She'd also helped Molly and Neville with the washing up.

She had settled into the Library to do a little more research when Harry found her.

"I've been thinking, and I think he didn't know."

"I'm sorry? What was that Harry?"

"Snape. I think he didn't know. When you hear the prophecy and know it's about me, it's rather obvious. But if I look at it objectively. It's really not. I think Snape had no idea it was about me. I think you're right. That night on the tower, I asked him why Dumbledore trusted him. I thought his answer was just more of his raving. But I was wrong. He told me the truth, didn't he? He said 'Lily.'"

"That's what made me try her name. But it still doesn't explain why Professor Snape was keyed to be the one to wake the portrait of the man he'd murdered."

"No. It doesn't. Unless we go back to Ron's theory that Snape was _supposed_ to kill Dumbledore and something went wrong."

"Well, it's as good a theory as any we have."

"True. Which isn't exactly saying much, is it?" Harry ran his hand through his hair and made it stand straight up. "What favor did you want to ask of me?"

Hermione grimaced. "I need your memories and your pensieve. A copy of your memories will be fine."

"Which ones?"

"Those ones. The night he killed Dumbledore and Voldemort, and the night he killed Voldemort the second time."

"You know it will be difficult to watch the memories of Voldemort's death don't you? You won't just be standing on the outside watching it unfold, you'll be in my own memory of my own mind. You'll be seeing Snape kill _you_."

"I know, but I need to. There's something I'm supposed to do and I need to see those memories to do it."

"What do you have to do?"

"I don't know yet," she answered.

He pulled off his glasses and rubbed at his eyes. "I'll bring them to you tomorrow."

"Thank you, Harry."

* * *

_She found herself on the moor again with the wind swirling around her. She turned around and saw him, as expected. However, he didn't appear as Heathcliff first this time, he already was Snape. He stalked towards her in full billow, bearing down on her as if he'd caught her skiving off classes. _

_She tried to take control of the dream again. _

_In a blink, the scene changed, but the wind remained. They were on top of the Astronomy Tower. Snape flinched but he kept coming. Hermione didn't want to meet him here, in this place. _

_In a blink, the scene changed again. _

_She found herself alone in the potions classroom. He was gone. She panicked and cried out, her hand stretching forth towards the empty shadows in the corner. _

_"Come back!" _

_Hands clasped her shoulders._

_"I'm coming," she heard him say. _

_She tried to turn around but no matter how fast she spun, he was always behind her, clutching her shoulders. _

_She had questions she'd planned to ask, but her mind was a whirl of confusion and fear, and her methodical interrogation turned into a jumble of half-thought-out questions._

_"Where are you?" she blurted._

_"I'm lost."_

_"Help me find you!"_

_"You must free me. I cannot live without my soul."_

_"Where is it?"_

_"Lost. So much of it is lost."_

_"Why me?"_

_"The third choice."_

_"What is the third choice?"_

_"You."_

_He spun her around and her vision filled with his intense black eyes as he kissed her, and she melted into his arms._

* * *

She woke up with a gasp and the strong memory of a colorful tower block as seen from railway tracks.

"Constant vigilance, indeed. Crooks? I think I need a good shag. If my needs keep interfering, I could become a liability here. Why on earth would Professor Snape want to kiss me? Good lord, I hope he _didn't_ share that dream."

As usual, her cat ignored her until she fed him.

She spent about twenty minutes on her computer before she'd even made tea. A little clicking here and there and she'd found the building from her dream. It was in Leicester and it was indeed not that far from a railway line.

She heard his voice repeat, _"I'm coming." _

If he was coming, he was taking a round-about way. It had taken him nearly three months to travel from Manchester to Leicester. A steady walk could have covered that distance in a few days. At this rate, he'd hit London next spring.

"Do you think I should go find him, Crooks? Or do you think now that I snogged him in his sleep he'll hustle a bit more? After all, I'm quite the siren, don't you know."

Whatever reply Crookshanks would have made was interrupted by a knock on the door. Hermione blanched, her whimsical musings forgotten as she looked around for her wand. If there was a chance that it was Professor Snape at her door, somehow meeting him unarmed while in footed pajamas felt like a distinct disadvantage. The man might be a good kisser in her dreams, but he _was_ a psychotic murderer after all.

"Who is it?" she called out, stalling for time as she shoved her hand down among the cushions of her sofa.

"Hermione? Are you alright?" Ron.

She sagged with relief and went over and opened the door.

"Hello, Harry, Ron."

"Merlin, Hermione, you look terrible. Didn't you get any sleep?" Ron asked.

"I was doing a lot of research last night," she replied to Ron, dragging a hand across her wild hair. "Why are you two dressed for work on a Sunday? Harry? Are you alright?"

She stepped aside and let them in.

Ron gestured to her kitchen and she waved towards it. He headed off to make tea.

"What's going on?" she asked.

"Voldemort has a new body. To celebrate, Death Eaters butchered most of the Creevey's last night. I stopped by to give you my memories before Ron and I head to the Ministry. We'll be at it all day. I don't know when else I'll get a chance."

"Oh, Harry. Did you—?"

"Did I see the murders? Yeah. The link is as solid as ever. Thanks to Draco, it's only one way now, but I thought it best to watch. Ginny woke Ron, and he and Kingsley took a team to the Creevey's, but they were too late."

Ron came up and set a pot of tea and some mugs down on the table. "Sorry, Hermione, I broke your kettle again."

"It's okay, Ron."

She poured for the three of them, as Harry set the box he'd been carrying down on the table with a thump.

"Here's Dumbledore's pensieve. Inside are the bottled memories you asked for, as well as some others that might be relevant, and a pint of pensieve solution. The Memories are copies. I had to copy my memories of last night anyway, so I went ahead. You can keep them."

"Thanks, Harry."

"How is your research coming?" he asked, waving a hand at the scrolls lying on every flat surface and a few lumpy ones as well. "As much as this place is a wreck, it's nice to see you busy again."

She laughed softly. "Well, the research is going well. The tome by Eiderfold is especially illuminating. I think I've found a reference to another book that has information on Horcruxes. I understand now how dangerous Soul Magic is, and why it was always considered borderline Dark magic. It's hard to get at any concrete information, the texts are filled with anecdotal stories and you have to jump from one to the other with an infuriating amount of cross referencing before you can call something a fact. I'm pretty sure I know how to make a Horcrux now, but I'm still having no luck with learning how to detect one. One thing I am sure about, intent makes a huge difference. Voldemort's intent does only give him a finite number of times he can do it."

"What other intent could there be besides to do what Voldemort has done?"

"It is a bit dodgy when you look at it, but there are shades of grey. Well, more like shades of soot. The fact that Voldemort made more than one Horcrux, limits the number of times he can split his soul."

"That's excellent news," said Harry. "At least we know he has a limit."

"Yes, but I haven't found anything that tells me how many times he's limited to."

"Well, you've still learned an amazing amount in a short time."

She sighed. "Yes, but think of how much farther we would be if I had researched this five years ago. There is still so much I don't understand. I don't even fully understand why I feel I'm supposed to be studying this now. I just know it's an obsession, and I'm either closer to the truth, or closer to the Janus Thickey Ward."

"What do you mean?" asked Ron.

"I've reached a point where I need to either embrace the illogical or turn away. I think I'm going to go ahead and embrace it."

"What's the illogical? It's not dangerous, is it?" said Ron, with concern.

"I'm not exactly sure. I've been dreaming of Snape."

"You said something about that last night," said Harry.

"These dreams are either some strange subconscious need of my own, or they are the real thing, and I'm somehow linked with him. I think he's the reason I turned away from everything three years ago. When he ended up in that hospital, I just started to drift. I think now that he's escaped, and I am aware of the connection, it's getting stronger. Like we were knitting together somehow. " She sipped at her tea. "I tried to change the dream and speak with him last night, going on the assumption that we were sharing the dream."

"Did it work?" Ron asked, leaning forward, intent on her words.

"I'm not really sure. Dreams feel like dreams, you know? But this time I did change the dream. I asked him some questions and I got the usual vague oracular answers. It went a bit weird after that. I think real dreams took over and the link, if there was one, faded. But I did wake up this morning with a very clear image in my head of a Muggle building I've never seen before. I looked on the computer and found it. It's really there. How could I have dreamed of a building I've never even heard of, never mind seen, if I wasn't sharing a link?"

"Where was it?" asked Harry.

"Leicester. I wrote the address down." She drained her tea and got up and walked over to her computer. She ripped a piece of paper off a pad and handed it over to Harry. "I've no doubt he'll be gone when you get there."

"What's he doing in Leicester?" asked Harry.

Hermione grimaced. "I don't know, but I'm pretty sure that he's now on his way here. I don't know why, but I think he's coming to find me."

"That's not funny, Hermione," snapped Ron.

"I'm being serious, Ron. Like I said. I need to either start to believe this, or I need to turn away. If I do somehow share a link with Snape's soul, or what's left of it, I think it would be in the Order's best interest for me to pursue it."

"But why? Why would you share a link with Snape's soul?" Ron asked.

"I don't know. I'm grabbing at straws here, but I think it's simply because of my essay."

"Essay?"

"Just before he left his office that night, before he incapacitated Filius, he'd been marking one of my essays. It was on Soul Magic. In his usual nasty comments, he'd actually given me a good place to look for further research to help you understand Horcruxes, Harry. But I didn't read his comments until after you almost caught him in the park. I think he fixated on my essay that night and used Soul Magic to make a connection. I think I'm somehow supposed to fix him."

"What did you mean when you said 'what's left of it?'" Ron asked.

"You remember what Slughorn told Harry about Horcruxes? When you murder someone, you rip your soul apart? Snape's killed thirteen times that we know of."

"Only one of those was worth feeling remorse over," said Ron. Hermione twisted her head and looked at him. "What? What did I say?" he asked.

"Nothing. Something. I need to research something I hadn't thought of."

"We need to be off as well. Hermione, be careful," Harry said.

"Honestly, Harry, I don't think Snape is a threat to me."

"Yeah?" snapped Ron. "But what about the Death Eaters that killed Dennis Creevey and his wife, kids and parents? Try a little of that constant vigilance, for us, okay? Do you even know where your wand is?"

Hermione had the good grace to blush and look ashamed.

* * *

Told ya it would be fast...

Review!


	4. Descent Into Madness

**AN:** Jog by chap spam

* * *

The next week, the Granger Sunday night meal was overshadowed by the news of the death of Colin Creevey and his wife and children. Colin had gone into hiding after the murder of his brother's family and their parents. Someone had turned him over. Voldemort's sympathizers had been dug out of the Ministry in the years since that fateful night on the Astronomy tower, but now there were whispers. Paranoia had set in as the death toll climbed.

Death Eaters were on the move and the earth shook in fear.

Hermione had discussed having her parents leave the country, perhaps as far away as Australia, but they would have none of it, not unless she came with them.

She couldn't leave. Even though there hadn't been any more dreams since the one in the potions classroom, she felt in her bones that Snape was coming. She knew that she needed to stay and wait for him.

As the days had dragged on she became convinced that the reason he hadn't shown up on her doorstep was because she needed to do something_, _understand something. She wasn't ignoring the possibility that she was becoming as crazy as Snape. That's what drove her finally to end up sitting on the sofa in her recently tidied flat, staring at the pensieve on the table.

She picked up the first memory_—_Dumbledore's murder_—_and poured it into the bowl. She took a sip of her wine, for courage, and with a quickly indrawn breath, she plunged her face into the bowl. She felt the rest of her body slide in as well.

* * *

_"Go and wake Severus…" * _

_Dumbledore was obviously sick. Hermione walked up close and inspected him like a museum exhibit. He looked utterly depleted, as Harry ran towards the door under his cloak. _

_Because it was Harry's memory, she could see him as a thicker grey form made out of mist under the cloak. Hermione kept her eyes on Dumbledore, as he cast a silent Freezing Charm, and Harry ended up leaning against the wall, unable to prevent what was going to happen. _

_She listened to Draco arrive, but kept her eyes on the Headmaster as he sincerely tried to push Draco from his path. She heard Draco waver, heard him admit he'd no choice. She didn't turn away from the man who would soon be dead on the ground eleven stories below. She wanted to see his face when he first saw his killer. _

_The other four Death Eaters, the Carrow siblings, Greyback and a fourth man Draco had later identified as McGuffin, arrived, and Hermione saw the sadness as his failure with Draco registered. He'd obviously really hoped the boy would be swayed. _

_Hermione thought of Ron's theory. Ron had hypothesized that Dumbledore knew he was dying and had asked Snape to kill him. Looking at Dumbledore now, there was no doubt that Dumbledore was dying. As good as his game-face was, as her father would say, it was obvious that Dumbledore was in intense pain. _

_There was a sudden commotion behind her. Hermione almost turned her head. She refused, keeping her eyes on the Headmaster. There! Just as Harry had said, the Headmaster nearly sagged with relief. In fact, seeing Snape seemed to have taken all the bluff out of the man. Hermione kept her eyes on Dumbledore's right up until they froze and glazed over. Dumbledore had been at peace with his fate even as the green glow enveloped him. _

_Harry had been wrong. Dumbledore wasn't begging Snape to save him at all. He'd begged to die. _

* * *

Hermione threw herself up and out of the memory. She grabbed her wine and took a large drink, before grabbing a quill and scribbling notes on parchment, while her mind raced. Why had Dumbledore wanted Snape to kill him? Obviously he didn't want Draco to, but why the Professor? Why not goad one of the others into the deed and spare Snape's soul?

Hermione took another, smaller, sip of wine and set her notes aside. She drew in a few more breaths and then plunged her head back into the pensieve and started the memory again.

* * *

_"Go and wake Severus…"* _

_Hermione turned and hurried for the door to the stairs. As soon as Draco threw the door open, she scrambled through it. She could only make it about ten steps down before all became mist, but was unsurprised at what details could be captured by the magical human mind that were outside conscious thought. She'd read up on such phenomena and had been hoping a mind as agile as Harry's would do it as well. Now she just hoped it worked. _

_She didn't have long to wait before the sounds from below grew louder and the four Death Eaters burst out of the mist and raced past her up the stairs. She stayed glued to her place in the stairs waiting for Snape to appear. He came sooner than she expected, silently rushing at her out of the mist. Her heart seemed to bang around in her chest as she waited for something important to happen. _

_And it did._

_Snape paused on the stairs. She was right up in his face when she saw it happen. Snape took a deep breath and closed his eyes. When he opened them again, she looked into the eyes of a murderer. An eye blink before, he'd only been a man concerned and perhaps a little fearful, but resigned. But in one deep breath—to center himself, she was sure—all traces of fear, resignation and concern had been completely eradicated and replaced by cold, malignant purpose. _

_She trembled as she followed him up the stairs. He threw open the door, and strode out onto the stones of the Astronomy Tower._

_He pushed past Draco, shoving the boy roughly out of the way. _

_She danced along in front of him, watching his every flicker of expression._

_"We've a problem, Snape,"* said Amycus. _

_Snape ignored him. His eyes were glued to Dumbledore. _

_"Severus…"*_

_Hermione watched his eyes and saw only cold calculation._

_"Severus…please…"*_

_She winced at the hatred that rolled across his face, deforming his features._

_"Avada Kadavra!"*_

_Hermione was enthralled as she watched Snape's eyes. First, they widened with surprise, then his face morphed into a rictus of intense pain and he shuddered from head to toe. She watched as he twitched and spasmed, before he clutched his chest and strangled on a scream. His voice came, so softly she almost missed it, "Oh, Albus, what have I done?" _

_She moaned, understanding what she was seeing. Snape's soul was tearing apart and he could feel it. He _knew_. _

"_I've done it wrong!" he hissed quietly. _

_Something obviously hadn't gone to plan. Hermione was now absolutely sure that this was supposed to have been a mercy killing, but something Snape had done had turned it onto murder. _

_Snape stumbled forward a step and grabbed at the wall by Harry's head. Hermione scuttled along with him, keeping her eyes locked on his. She saw when it happened. When he succumbed. _

_Her recent studies had taught her that anyone with an intent evil enough could reconcile the pain. Snape couldn't. His eyes went wide, and his entire body trembled violently. When his eyes narrowed again, they were filled with madness. His face twisted into a terrifying grin as tears leaked from his eyes. His mouth worked, but Hermione couldn't tell what he was trying to say. He straightened up and his face went blank. The utterly lifeless expression in his eyes made her blood run cold. _

_Severus Snape was gone. _

_Hermione felt herself start to cry, but when she reached to wipe away her tears, there were none. They had probably added their salt to the pensieve solution._

_"What are you doing Snape? We've got to get out of here!" cried the brutal-faced McGuffin. _

_Snape's face twitched. _

_As she watched, his eyes filled with a frightening malice, hideous in its intensity. He turned around slowly, but then exploded into action. She huddled by Harry as Snape unleashed his madness. As if removing any civilized restraint had increased his power, Snape killed with speed, economy of movement and a terrifying power. After A _Deprimo_ obliterated Amycus Carrow, Hermione tried to press her face against the shadowed form of Harry before making herself watch the rest. A hand, still clutching a wand skittered over and released its grip at Harry's feet. Fenrir Greyback had at least raised his wand, before his head flew off from a _Diffindo_. In a matter of moments, all four Death Eaters were dead. None of them had managed to defend themselves. They simply didn't have time. _

_Draco had been safe hiding in the shadows until he vomited on the stones, attracting Snape's attention. _

_Hermione stayed locked in horror, as Snape bore down on the young Malfoy._

_"I should k-k-kill you, too. You're a c-cancerous pustule waiting to grow up to be just another malignant tumor. I tried to help you and this is my penance. Well? Do you think he'll be impressed with you now?" Snape's face twitched violently to the side with every stuttered word. He raised his wand and leaned into the young man's terrified face. "Dumbledore wanted me to spare you this. He didn't want your soul damaged." Snape broke into a nasty cackle that raised gooseflesh across Hermione's skin. The laughter cut off just as quickly, when Snape jabbed his wand under Draco's chin. Malfoy let out an anguished moan. Snape paused and stepped back, as if this sound of fear confused him. He walked in a tight circle, muttering to someone and appearing to get an answer he liked. He looked around at the human wreckage surrounding him and then leaned in close until his nose was touching Draco's ear. "Run," he said quietly._

_Snape hissed like a cat as Draco fled from the tower towards the sounds of more fighting._

_Hermione turned her head at a movement from Harry, obviously just realizing that Dumbledore's Freezing Charm had failed when he'd died. _

_"Albus. It hurts." _

_Hermione's head pivoted back to Snape, shocked to hear him sound so small and vulnerable. He had crouched down with his arms locked around him and rocking slightly back and forth. _

"_The pieces hurt me," he said with a moan. "Not like this. It wasn't supposed to be like this." _

_Snape stood suddenly and raised his wand and pointed it at his own head. "Avada K-K-Kadavra!" _

_Hermione screamed as his wand exploded in a shower of green sparks from the miscast spell. Several pieces ended up embedded in his cheek._

_He seemed befuddled, as he stood there, with his arms dangling at his sides and blood running down his neck. _

_Hermione was shocked to recognize his injuries from her first dream of him on the moor. _

_The sounds of fighting drifted farther away from the steps leading up to the Astronomy Tower. Harry made his move. He stepped forward, still hidden under the cloak and raised his wand._

_"Potter, the Headmaster has a message for you," Snape said as if he'd just met him in the hall. Hermione was used to seeing Harry, so it took her a moment to realize that Snape shouldn't have been able to._

_Harry looked surprised as well as he pulled the cloak off and circled closer. "What is it?" he asked, his wand aimed right at the other man's head._

_"I c-c-can't remember," he said in an unusually pleasant voice. "It's slipped my mind." _

_Hermione saw the tears rolling down his cheeks and, in a momentary lapse of sanity, she actually lifted her hand to wipe them. Snape's head jerked violently to the side, and she pulled her hand back as if she'd burned him, before she realized it was a coincidence. He was shaking himself apart by this point, and random head twitches were increasing in frequency. _

_He raised his shaking hand and call out "Accio wand!" Harry jumped forward as the Death Eaters' wands all flew to Snape's hand. Dumbledore's wand flew back up and over the edge and Snape plucked it out of the air with a childlike smile. "Oh, splendid."_

_"Stop right there, Snape!" Harry shouted. "I'm warning you!"_

_Snape spared him a glance from his examination of Dumbledore's wand. "Ask him to explain. Tell him the shards hurt." _

_Harry looked like he was at the end of his endurance. His face was a mixture of terror, confusion, pain and rage. Hermione, now having completely lost any objectivity, went over and tried to put her arms around him but it was like touching dandelion seeds. Memory Harry didn't react._

_"Ask who to explain?" Harry whispered._

_Snape ignored him as he chose a Death Eater's wand and slid it into his sleeve. He tossed the others to the stones. _

_"Tell _who_?" Harry cried. _

_Snape didn't respond. _

_"Why did Dumbledore trust you?" he shouted. _

_Snape turned his head toward him slowly and his eyes had trouble tracking him. _

_"Ah, Lily," he said, with a warped smile. _

_Hermione could understand why Harry hadn't known this was his direct answer. His words didn't match his body language. He sounded like he was lost in a pleasant memory, he looked like he was trapped in a nightmare._

_"Lily's dead! You killed her, you bastard! You weren't worth Dumbledore's trust!"_

_"Yes." Snape hung his head sadly._

_"Why did you kill the other Death Eaters?"_

_"I made a third choice," he said. "C-c-couldn't fail." _

_Hermione froze. She ran back over to Snape. _

_"What are you talking about? Whose side are you on?" cried Harry._

_"Forget that! Ask him what the third choice means, Harry!" Hermione yelled uselessly._

_Snape seemed to have forgotten Harry. He began muttering to himself and wrapped both hands around Dumbledore's wand, whispering a phrase that Hermione didn't catch. When she realized what she was seeing she started to back away. Harry stood behind him, oblivious, but Hermione had started to moan. The wand flared with light and Snape screamed. His screams grew more terrible as the light flared brighter until light and sound cut off at the same instant. Snape collapsed against the parapet. Harry ran over to him, as Hermione collapsed to her knees and started to sob. Snape looked half dead, as he crawled to the edge of the parapet and looked down._

_"I had to. The shards hurt. Tell him. Ask him."_

_"Ask who? Who, Snape?" Harry was sobbing._

_Snape turned and looked at him. "Albus." His eyes were still flat and expressionless, but tears still tracked down his bloodied face. "C-c-can't. Must k-kill the other." Snape was shaking from a violent palsy now. He looked over at the bodies piled by the door to the tower and then down towards the ground below. Without a sound, he let go of the parapet and dropped. _

_Harry screamed as Snape fell away into the darkness of the night. _

_Hermione sobbed harder._

_Footsteps pounded up the stairs behind them but both Harry and Hermione were too numb to turn around._

_"Harry?" Remus came up behind him and laid a hand on his shoulder. "Harry, what happened?"_

_Harry dissolved into tears and Remus pulled him into his arms. _

_"Dumbledore's dead," he said quietly. _

_"I heard. They found his body below. Who killed him?"_

_Harry had trouble trying to form the words around his sobs._

_"Snape. Snape killed him. Then he killed them." He gestured to the bodies behind him. "And then he killed himself, and I don't know why." _

* * *

Hermione was thrown back out of the memory. She stuffed a hand into her mouth to silence the sobs that wanted to escape. He'd _known_. He'd _felt _it happen. The awfulness of it all overwhelmed her, and she collapsed onto her sofa and cried herself to sleep, while Crookshanks kneaded at her stomach and purred furiously to take away his human's pain.

When she woke in the morning, she had a fleeting memory of strong arms holding her tight.

* * *

In the bright cold light of the winter's morning, a tramp rolled out from under the hedges by the Underground station in Moor Park. He set his feet on the road and started walking. He looked a sight, in his mixed-up clothing: filthy khaki trousers under an oversized pink woman's cloth coat, a torn polyester blanket as a shawl, topped with a knitted hat declaring him a fan of the Blackpool Panthers. A kindly jogger greeted him, but when the tramp lifted up his face and met the woman's eyes, she turned quickly and ran the other way.

* * *

Hermione took a long, hot shower and ate a good-sized breakfast, before calling out of work. She was too overwrought from her experience last night. It was as if it had all just happened all over again, only this time it was worse.

Five years ago she'd been devastated by the loss of Dumbledore and overwhelmed at the prospect of trying to confront the Dark Lord without their leader, now that loss was compounded by the agony experienced by Severus Snape.

She wrote furious notes, trying to throw herself back into a researcher's frame of mind, but she knew it was hopeless. She'd lost all objectivity watching Professor Snape lose his mind.

As soon as she was halfway settled, she dove into the next memory. She wanted to get this all out of the way at once.

The next memory was of finding Draco hiding in the Room of Requirement. Professor Slughorn, as Draco's head of house, invoked his authority and forced the room to allow him access. Minerva, Remus and Harry had followed Slughorn inside.

* * *

_"What should be done with him?" Slughorn asked McGonagall. All the staff had turned to her as leader in the aftermath._

_"There are Aurors outside waiting for him," she answered with a sad sigh. Draco hunched up his shoulders and started to cry._

_"We should keep him. Hide him here," said Harry from the doorway. All three of them turned to look at him. He rubbed at his scar. "The Dark Lord is angry. The Death Eaters that returned don't know if Dumbledore was dead or not, but they saw Draco run out of the tower and away from them. If we turn him over to the Ministry, he won't survive. The Dark Lord wants him dead."_

_Draco jumped up from where he'd been crouched. "My Mother? Can you see my mother?"_

_Harry winced. "No. It doesn't work like that. I only see what Vold-what the Dark Lord sees when he's angry or happy… or when he toys with me."_

_"Can he see your thoughts?" asked Draco, a note of fear in his voice._

_"I'm not sure. I think he can sometimes. But if he could, he'd know through me that Dumbledore died tonight."_

_"You can't control it?" Harry shook his head. "I can teach you! My aunt taught me how. I can teach you how to block him out! I can be useful! I can tell you things— Please don't let them kill me." Draco's words faded to a whisper. Slughorn recoiled, but then patted him on the shoulder._

_"Well," said McGonagall. "We can't turn him over to be killed. That makes us no better than they are." She waved a wand around the room. Harry clutched the doorframe, looking slightly nauseous as the room morphed into a small bedroom. "Sleep here tonight, Mr. Malfoy. I shall consult others and decide what to do with you in the morning. If you are serious about helping, perhaps we might find a use for you." She stared him down. "Understand, young man, the one person who could have spared you is dead now, if not by your hand, then by your deeds."_

_Harry stepped forward and looked down on the boy who had been his nemesis. "I think the Headmaster would want him spared," he said._

_"What makes you think that?" asked McGonagall._

_"Dumbledore tried to give him a way out. The other Death Eaters arrived too soon. And something Snape said, as well. He was going to kill Draco too, but stopped. He said, 'Dumbledore wanted me to spare you. He didn't want your soul damaged.'" Harry shrugged as Draco nodded his head. "I don't understand, but he did spare Draco."_

_"By your own statements, Professor Snape was quite mad, Mr. Potter. I don't think his words have any value."_

_"But there were moments—" Harry shook his head, obviously lost in the memories of everything that had happened. The insanity of it all. "Perhaps not."_

_"You should get some sleep. The both of you."_

* * *

There hadn't been much of use for Hermione there. She was pretty sure Harry had simply wanted her to see that memory more to explain why he had accepted Draco after what had happened on the tower.

Draco had become useful to the Order, eventually joining it and becoming a valued and accepted member. He'd taught Harry Occlumency and helped gather important information, all while living like a fugitive, constantly trying to stay one step ahead of the price on his head.

Hermione stood up and did a few stretching exercises and grabbed a glass of water before diving into the next memory. She needed to steal herself a bit, before she watched Snape murder the Dark Lord in his own lair.

* * *

*Dialogue from JK Rowling.

Go on, tell Aunty Aurette all about it. It will make you feel better...


	5. Death of a Dark Lord, pt1

AN: Tap dance by chap spam

* * *

Hermione settled down on the sofa again and siphoned off the previous memory and returned it to its vial. Taking out the next one, she poured it into the pensieve and plunged her face in before she could think of another reason to stall.

* * *

_Hermione found herself sitting on the end of Harry's bed behind the closed curtains. It was the same night as the other memories. She watched as Harry tossed and turned, never fully closing his eyes, as he constantly rubbed at his scar. He finally sat up and let out a frustrated growl. The curtains parted and Ron was there. _

_Hermione smiled at this younger Ron. This was _her_ Ron from back when it was all longing and confusion and sped up heartbeats. Before they had become lovers and almost ruined it all. _

_"What is it Harry?" whispered Ron._

_"Voldemort. He's still in a rage. He's missing eight Death Eaters and he's furious. He's begun ordering people's executions." Harry looked at Ron. "Draco's mum is dead. I'll have to tell him in the morning."_

_Ron sucked in air. "That's rough. I don't trust the ferret, but if he really was trying to save his family's life, then you have to feel bad for him. Dumbledore's dead anyway. If he'd done it, his mum would be alive." Ron shook his head and sat on the edge of the bed. "He'll be hard to trust, Harry."_

_"I know. But Dumbledore thought he was worth it. I think it's worth trying for Dumbledore's sake."_

_"True. But Dumbledore wasn't the best judge of character. He trusted Snape too."_

_"Yeah, there's that." They both fell silent and Hermione could practically hear Harry's thoughts. He was still full of rage and confusion. He'd worshiped his Headmaster, all his desperate longing for family had turned Dumbledore into the beloved grandfather he'd never had. The rage had twisted around the confusion and created an emotional vortex that had been nearly impossible for him to navigate for months afterward._

_Hermione watched as Harry hissed in fresh pain. Ron grabbed his shoulder._

_"Something new?" he asked, his voice full of worry._

_"Voldemort. He's happy. He's very happy."_

_"He must have just found out." Ron leaned back and rubbed his chin, where he'd only recently started to shave. "I think we should recruit the ferret. If he can help you block him, then it would be worth it. I don't think Snape really wanted you to actually learn Occlumency."  
Harry gasped and grabbed at his forehead, rocking forward on the bed. Hermione felt herself get sucked away as she joined Harry's memory from the inside_.

"_Send him in! Bring him to me!"_

_Hermione was disoriented. It took her a minute to realize she was Voldemort. Harry had tried to warn her, but she hadn't been prepared for the feeling of being trapped. She had a new respect for her friend. Harry dealt with this mental imprisonment by choice now._

_She could only look around the room when the Dark Lord did. There were several men and women standing around what looked like a dilapidated drawing room. She knew it was the old Riddle estate because the Order had found its remains the day after._

_The field of vision turned and Hermione was looking at the doors that had been thrown open to reveal several more Death Eaters. They parted like a black tide and revealed one man walking slowly towards her. Snape. Hermione could 'feel' the memory of Voldemort's delight. Harry's internal memory supplying more emotional detail than usual._

_'Ssseveruss, how good it is to see you. You look a little worse for wear. You have news for me?' _

_Hermione wanted to move. She needed to get closer to him to see his eyes. To track his thoughts as best she could. She was frustratingly powerless._

_Snape looked like hell. His still-bleeding face twitched uncontrollably, and his head seemed to constantly pivot on his neck, never stopping on one thing for long. He gripped his borrowed wand in one hand and clutched the Headmaster's in the other, cradling it against his chest. Hermione mentally closed her eyes, saddened to see the building evidence that her suspicion was correct. She felt Voldemort's displeasure that Snape hadn't bothered with the usual obeisance. _

_"He's dead." Snape said while continuing to walk slowly towards Voldemort's 'throne.' Hermione felt the burst of triumph. Heard the scattered shouts of jubilation cut off when Voldemort raised a hand._

_"By whose hand?" Voldemort leaned forward in his chair. _

_Snape spun in a circle at the murmuring of the Death Eaters still in the room and frowned. "Too many," he said distractedly._

_Voldemort, curious now at Snape's behavior, lifted a hand and everyone scurried out of the room, all but a hulking Death Eater still wearing a mask. He stayed at a gesture from the Dark Lord._

_"Explain yourself, Severus. You take unusual liberties. Where are the others? Where's the Malfoy boy?"_

_Snape stopped looking around and stared directly at Voldemort. Harry and Hermione both flinched. It was as if Snape was looking straight into her soul. The Dark Lord was disturbed by his gaze as well._

_"Narcissa?"_

_"Dead. I told him the price of failure. Even if the boy succeeded, he did not return here as ordered. I consider that failure." Voldemort waved an impatient hand. "_Did _the boy succeed?"_

_Snape shook his head, although it almost seemed a part of his palsy. "I did."_

_"Good." Voldemort drew out the sound of his satisfaction. "Very good, Severusss. But what's happened to you? Are you cursed?"_

_Hermione watched as the man's face spasmed and morphed, one moment full of pain, the next, anger. It settled into desolation._

_"For eternity…" _

_Hermione wailed as she heard this confirmation of her terrible fear. She looked at Albus's wand, gripped in his hand and clutched to his heart, like a frightened child with his stuffed animal._

_Voldemort was slow to understand what was happening, but Hermione had seen it before. Snape's eyes shifted to those filled with glittering malice. Again, he moved shockingly fast as he killed the unknown Death Eater beside the chair and stupefied the snake. Voldemort tried to lift his wand but found he'd been bound to his chair. _

_Snape leaned in close and looked directly into Voldemort's eyes. Hermione shuddered at the intensity of his stare. "Find the others first, Potter. Destroy them. You _must_ be last." _

_Hermione felt her nerve-endings misfire throughout her body as she heard Snape's message for Harry. She'd known about it, Harry had tried to explain what it had been like, but it was still shocking to witness it. There was no mistaking what he was talking about. Snape obviously knew the Dark Lord couldn't be killed permanently unless the Horcruxes were destroyed. The question was: what had he meant about Harry being the last? _

_Snape backed away and called up Fiendfyre. It sprang around the room terrifyingly fast. She could feel Voldemort struggle, could hear the other Death Eaters banging at the locked and warded doors. The Fiendfyre raced about, shapes, writhing and pulsing in the flames. Hermione watched, mesmerized, as Snape casually turned back to the Dark Lord and slashed his throat with a Slicing Hex. Hermione was sure she'd grabbed her own neck as she watched Snape calmly blast a hole in the ceiling. She sat frozen as he gathered Albus's wand closer and then launched himself off the floor and up and out of the room through the hole in the roof. Voldemort's fear and rage faded as his life ran out._

_Hermione came back to herself clutching her neck. She was back on Harry's bed. _

_Harry was grabbing his own throat and shouting, "He can fly! He can fucking fly!" _

_Hermione gave him a last look and flung herself out of the pensieve._

* * *

"Oh, Crooks," she cried. "How am I supposed to fix this? How can I fix him? I understand what he's done, but—" She pushed herself away from the pensieve on the table and sat and stared at the three books she had tracked down after reading his comments on her essay. Crookshanks came and butted his head against her hand and she gathered him in close. "I don't think I can. I don't think it's possible." She looked down at her cat, wishing he had the answers. "How am I supposed to put him back together? That's not in the books."

She leaned forward and took up her quill. She dipped it in the ink with a shaking hand before writing one sentence on a parchment already cramped with notes. _'You _must_ be last.' _She underlined it several times and surrounded it with question marks.

She tidied up her notes and siphoned off the memory before putting everything away. She would need time before she could face another memory. She glanced at her books on Soul Magic, but turned away from them as well. She needed to take a break. She needed fresh air. She grabbed up her coat and car keys and headed out the door.

* * *

"It's not like you, dear," her mother said with a worried frown, as she set the table. "I'm glad you're throwing yourself into research, and I'm glad you've embraced your magic again, but calling out sick just so you can look at those memories? That smacks of obsession to me."

"I agree with your mother. I'm tickled that we get to feed you two days in a row, but I'm suspicious of such a radical shift in the norm. I think you should take a break. Not just for the evening, but step away completely for a while. Do you think this salad needs more tomatoes?"

"It's fine, dear. The tomatoes are so anemic this time of year anyway."

"I can't, Dad," Hermione said pulling the lasagna from the oven. "Things are beyond the point where we can stick our head in the sand when it gets to be too much. We need to find the last Horcrux—if he hasn't made any others, which we're not completely sure of. I'm convinced, now more than ever, that Snape was part of some plot of Dumbledore's, and he knows the answers to the questions we have."

"But he's insane, dear. How will you get the answers?"

"I need to fix him."

Hermione's parents both froze at her casual response.

"Hermione," her mother said in a tight voice. "The man is a killer. I understand that he's a bit of a sympathetic figure, and yes, his story is tragic, but he's murdered so many people. I don't care if they were bad people, they're still dead people. Dead. Because he killed them."

"More than that, Hermione," her father put in. "He hunted them down and left them _displayed_. Yes, he effectively destroyed their organization, but it came back, didn't it? Vigilantes only breed instability. There's just no room for it in civilized society. The ends do _not_ justify the means in this. Your Death Eaters always reemerge, don't they? You said he only stopped killing them because he was hospitalized. How do we know he wouldn't have found a new group of people to kill if he'd run out?"

"Because killing hurts him," she said. "If it didn't, he wouldn't need me."

Her mother flung down her pile of napkins. "Oh, for God's sake, Hermione. What the hell makes you think he needs you? He was just your damned teacher. Look at it objectively, darling. Why on earth would he decide to pin his survival on a seventeen-year-old student that, from what you always told us, he could barely stand on a good day?"

Hermione blinked. She tried to explain, but her rationalizations evaporated before they reached her lips. She set the serving spoon down and turned to her mother. "You're right." She sat down slowly in her chair. "You're right."

Her mother came over and pulled her head against her stomach and hugged her.

"Do you think it was all in my head? That I just wanted to feel important?"

"Not completely," her father answered, in a gentle voice. "I think there is a definite mystery here. I just think you've spent too much time barking up the wrong tree. A lot of good came out of it. You now know an enormous amount about Soul Magic and more than anyone else about these Horcruxes. I would move away from Snape and his broken soul. I think it's blinding you to other possibilities in your research."

"There are a lot of implausibilities that become realities in your world, sweetheart," her mother added. "It's not completely irrational for you to have thought he was connected to you somehow. I just find it highly unlikely."

All three stiffened at a sound from outside, just beyond the large window in the dining room. Hermione reached into her sleeve but remembered she'd left her wand in her handbag.

"Get down!" she hissed, before slipping to the floor and crawling for her wand. John and Helen Granger dropped to the floor and scrambled after her. Mrs. Granger let out a yelp when someone knocked on the front door. The three of them froze. The knock came again. Hermione reached into her handbag and pulled out her wand just as the door flew open. She heard the back door bang open at the same time.

Hermione lifted her wand but stopped the hex on her lips when she saw George and Fred Weasley. The breath she didn't know she'd been holding exploded out of her.

"Hermione? Are you okay?" Fred said. "I'm sorry about the door. We got worried when no one answered. We knew you were in here." Ginny and Bill came in from the kitchen.

"We're fine. We heard a noise." She waved her hand, hoping they could put the rest together for themselves. "What's happened? Why are you here?"

"It's Draco and Moody," said Ginny, as she helped Mrs. Granger off the floor. "They're dead. Neville and Mundungus were also attacked, but they got away. We've been checking on all the other Order members, but you weren't home. I thought we should look for you here. Sorry about your doors."

Hermione felt her gut cramp at the news. "How?" she managed to croak out.

"Draco was killed at home, poison. Moody was killed in a men's lav at the Ministry."

"You'd think if there was a time to be constantly vigilant it would be—"

"Shut it, George," snapped Bill. "I'll fix the doors," he muttered and walked back into the kitchen.

"How was Draco poisoned?"

"Wine. We think his food delivery was tampered with. Harry, Ron and Neville are investigating that. Kingsley and Tonks are in charge of Moody's case."

"We're going to be instituting regular contacts," said George.

"To keep track of each other," Fred finished, holding up a medallion with a phoenix on it.

"We all have one now," Ginny explained. "Fred and George have been working on them for weeks. We'll be able to contact each other, just like our old DA Galleons. We'll let you know who's in your contact circle when we get a table drawn up. However, we recommend that you and your parents stay in constant contact. You might even think about going into hiding."

"We've discussed it," said Mr. Granger. "Since several recent victims were already in hiding, I don't see the point." He looked at his wife, and she nodded.

"Hermione," Ginny said. "You're the last member that lives on your own. We think maybe you should move in with us at Grimmauld, or perhaps with your parents, here. It's not safe alone."

"True, but I'm also the only one who lives in Muggle London. Death Eaters are notorious for being blind about this world."

"Think about it," said Bill on his way past to fix the front door. "You also have the Burrow and Shell Cottage at your disposal. All of you."

"We'll discuss it," Hermione assured him.

* * *

Hermione found a parking space a several doors down from her flat. She stepped out of the car and locked it. With a roll of her eyes, she unlocked it and snatched out the lasagna and salad that her mother had packed up. None of them had had an appetite after the Weasleys had all left. Instead, there had been a dreadful argument. Hermione had argued that hiding would be the best recourse if she was the only person that knew where they were. She'd failed to convince them. All the way home she'd thought of ways to get them to safety, and none of them had included their cooperation. She'd die before she saw her parents harmed. Of course, the fact that they felt the same way was a bit of a problem. They wouldn't hide, unless she came with them.

As she passed the rubbish skip she looked, as was her constant habit, to see if any homeless persons were hiding from the cold. She saw one fellow, half hidden by the shadows made by the streetlamp. With a sad sigh, she turned towards him. She shifted her handbag onto her shoulder and slid her wand out of her sleeve. The lessons of the evening were mercifully taught. This time.

"Hello, there. I was wondering of you'd be interested in a bit of lasagna? There's a salad," she added, waving the bag.

The man didn't respond but his head came up.

All she could see was dark, matted hair topped with a squashy hat and a full, unkempt beard. She couldn't make out his other features but something about him brought a skinny Hagrid to mind. She did manage not to smile at his overlarge pink coat. Dignity was a rare and precious commodity to these people. "I'll just leave it here. It's nothing special, just a frozen meal from Tesco." She placed the bag down on the pavement near him. "If you would, the plates are my mother's, you'd be sparing me a lecture if you left them for me to clean and bring back."

She stood up and smiled at the silent man. "Good night, then." She turned and headed towards her flat, the anxiety of the day ameliorated by one small deed.

* * *

The man ate his meal quietly, knife and fork barely clicking on the plate, the quiet stabs at the lettuce going unnoticed. A small pile of tomatoes was building up to the side. His meal was interrupted by a groan from behind the huge bin. The man settled his utensils on the plate and dabbed at his mouth with the paper napkin he'd found in the bag. He pulled out his stick and jabbed it at the other man, the one dressed in black robes and wearing a mask. The masked man cried out and flailed before another, more complex wave of the stick rendered him unconscious again.

The tramp resumed eating his meal. The tomatoes went uneaten.

* * *

I know! I can't believe me either…

Don't think just because another one is coming you don't have to review this one...


	6. Sanctuary

AN: Saunter by chap spam

* * *

Hermione woke earlier than usual and called her parents. They had agreed to frequent calls at prearranged times to keep each other from worrying.

With extra time on her hands, she made herself a bit of breakfast before hurrying to get dressed for work. Crookshanks seemed happy to see her back to normal. He wasn't nearly as clingy and fussy as he'd been yesterday, when she'd broken routine and stayed home.

Hermione looked at the pensieve sitting on the desk across the room and decided her parents were right. She'd spent too much time immersed in fantasy, not magic. When she got home from work, she would settle in and begin looking for ways to detect Horcruxes. That seemed infinitely more effective.

She poured herself a travel mug of coffee, grabbed her coat and keys, and slid her wand into her sleeve. When she opened her door, her first step kicked something on her welcome mat. She looked down, startled, and saw her mother's plates. She smiled. They had been neatly stacked until she'd kicked them, and they were spotless. She bent down and picked them up and rushed back into the house.

She came out a moment later with two travel mugs and a small bag. She headed down towards the skip.

She found him where she'd left him last night.

"Good morning! Thank you for taking good care of my mum's dishes. I brought you some coffee and a couple of donuts."

He didn't lift his head or acknowledge her in any way, but when she set the mug and the bag of donuts down, he did show interest. His head lolled lethargically towards her hand. She didn't smell booze—although he smelled of just about everything else—however he did look like he'd already greeted the day, so she assumed he was a junkie.

"Also, I have a paper here with the address of a shelter. It's too cold for you here. I'd be happier knowing you were somewhere warm. Besides, they will come and clear you off. The neighbors will complain if they see you. If you have trouble reading my handwriting, I can read it to you." She'd used block print, but some of these poor souls couldn't read.

When he still didn't respond, she reached down and placed the slip of paper on the pavement next to the coffee. He grabbed her hand with his lime-green mitten and she froze. He turned her hand over and placed a good-sized rock into it and then folded her fingers around it. It was warm.

"Didn't k-kill that," he said, in a voice deep and dusty from disuse.

"Thank you," she replied, when he let her hand go.

He just turned and lifted up the bag of donuts and buried his face in it.

"Right, well, enjoy," she said. She straightened up and backed away, before turning to her car.

She climbed in, took a look at the strange rock he'd gifted her with, and then tossed it on the seat next to her. She'd been given more than a few odd things by her people over the years. They liked reciprocity and often shared things that had value to them in their deluded minds. This wasn't her first 'special' rock.

Hermione was across town and pulling into a space in the multi-story car park across from her work, when the rock started to make noise. She switched off the motor and turned her head in time to see it shift and change to the sound of someone crying out in intense pain. She screamed as she threw herself out of the car and pulled out her wand. When the transformation was complete, Hermione found herself looking at a badly injured Death Eater. He was unconscious but breathing. Just to be safe, she stunned him. Then she grabbed her medallion.

She was still sitting on her arse on the ground, with her wand aimed at the man in the car, when Harry and Ron arrived.

"Bloody hell! How did—what happened?" cried Ron.

"He was a rock!" she yelled. "He gave me a bloody rock!"

"Who did?"

"Snape!" she said. "It had to be Snape!"

"You saw Snape?"

"He was near the rubbish. I fed him. Twice. I didn't even know it was him! Circe's teats, how the hell didn't I know it was him?" She finally scrambled up off the ground. "Get rid of that. I have to go home!"

"No! Hermione, don't be stupid! He could have killed you!"

"No, _this_ bastard could have killed me," she said, jabbing her wand towards the Death Eater. "Snape just failed to tell me why his rock was special. He did say he hadn't killed it. I guess that was a warning of sorts. He must have found him near my flat last night. They must have come for me after all."

"Hermione," warned Harry. "We can't let you go back home. Snape is still a wanted criminal."

"You're not going to _arrest_ him, are you? He saved me from this man last night. He has knowledge we need. If you lock him up, we'll never get our answers."

"Hermione, be reasonable."

"No! You can't!" she yelled. She gripped her wand and spun away with a crack.

She landed right by the skip, but Snape was gone. Another crack and Ron arrived breathing fire. Two more cracks announced the arrival of Tonks and Remus. Tonks was already moving toward the two Muggle teenagers staring agog at the scene.

"Have you lost your mind completely?" screamed Ron.

Hermione didn't respond. She just stared at the spot he'd been in, hoping to feel his presence. She didn't.

Shacklebolt arrived with four more Aurors, and Hermione felt her heart sink. She felt like a traitor, but she wasn't sure for which side.

* * *

She finally arrived at work three hours late. She made up an excuse about her maiden Aunt having fallen in the tub that morning, and she'd felt wretched at the sympathetic comments she'd received all day from her coworkers.

She buried herself in her work, catching up from the previous day's 'stomach trouble' and tried not to dwell on how disappointed she was. Shacklebolt and his crew had thoroughly gone over her flat—the clean travel mug had been left on her doormat—and the neighborhood. Ron had brought the Lupins back with him to collect the Death Eater with Harry and clean up the scene. Everyone but Remus and Tonks had treated her like a fool.

What bothered her the most was the fact that he'd been there; she'd spoken to him twice, and she hadn't had a clue it was him either time. Obviously, he'd gone a bit seedy—and he'd been buried alive in that coat—but she'd have thought there would have been some kind of connection. Some small bond, that she'd have been aware it was him from across the lot. There hadn't been.

She felt like a fool.

On the other hand, if her theory about a connection had been completely wrong, why had he turned up at her flat? Why would he have camped out at that particular place? Coincidence seemed a bit too extreme.

She stayed late at work to catch up. She couldn't bear going home and was sure her parents would be too upset if she showed up for a meal three nights in a row.

She hadn't felt this bereft and lost since Oliver had left.

It was nine o'clock when she packed it in. She didn't really want to go home yet; she feared Ron or Harry would be waiting to finish their lecture, so she decided to head down the street. She'd had a sudden taste for Chinese, which had rapidly turned into a craving.

She locked the office behind her and waved to the security guard before heading out into the street and away from the car park. She headed over two blocks, holding her wand in her hand and her hands in her sleeves, as if she was cold. When she was about a block away from the restaurant, she stopped.

There he was.

Huddled against the side of the building was a homeless man, in an overlarge pink woman's coat. He was bundled up, hat pulled down far and collar up high.

A couple of yobs were busy annoying people as they stumbled drunkenly along the pavement.

Hermione quickened her pace, hurrying down the street towards where Snape sat in his pink coat like a target. They saw him and started in on having their bit of fun messing with the wino. They knocked his hat off and started half-heartedly kicking him, as she shouted and broke into a sprint.

Snape didn't defend himself. He just sat there and took it.

Hermione pulled out her wand, but she knew that if she started hexing Muggles, the Ministry wouldn't be far behind. Since Voldemort's first demise at Snape's hands, the Ministry had managed to figure out how to track and trace aggressive spells in Muggle areas, the same way they tracked underage magic.

The hoodlums had lost interest already, not getting any response from him, but her adrenaline was pumping as she descended on them in a rage.

"Oi! Go home to Mummy, you hairy-arsed bastards!" she yelled. She bore down on the three of them like a diminutive Valkyrie. "Haven't you got fuck all else to do with your sad little lives? Shove off, the three of you!"

They recoiled from her. Looking around and seeing the growing crowd of angry spectators, they did what their ilk did best. They faded away with petulant mutters, and dire threats.

Hermione got a few supportive comments from the small crowd before it disbursed. She squatted down in front of Snape and picked up his hat and placed it back on his head.

"I didn't know you followed Blackpool, Professor," she said with a broken laugh as she sniffed up tears. The adrenalin that had slammed into her system had dissipated, and now she was shaking and fighting a powerful need for a good cry.

Snape just sat there staring at the ground.

"Won't you say hello?" she asked. "I've been waiting a long time for you."

He didn't respond at all. She might as well have not even been there. But he'd brought her here, she was sure of it.

"Fancy a bit of Chinese then? Come on; let me buy you a meal. What's your favorite Dim Sum, eh? I know you planted the idea in my head." She stood up and held her hand down to help him, but he didn't respond. "Please, Professor. Come with me." She waited for a response, but finally gave up. "I'll be right back. Don't you dare leave."

She hurried into the restaurant and placed her take-out order—not knowing what he liked, she ordered one of nearly everything. When she was told fifteen minutes, she thanked them and hurried outside. Snape was still there. She spent the time running back in and out of the restaurant until she was quite sure they thought she was crazy. Finally, her food was ready and she paid. When she'd gathered up the bags, she turned and found him standing right behind her, staring down at the floor.

"Oh! Did you want to eat in here then?" she asked.

"No! Out! You get him out!" The woman behind the counter was stabbing her finger at the sign that read: 'We reserve the right to refuse service.'

Hermione couldn't really blame them, he looked a fright and he smelled awful.

"It's all right, we're leaving." She walked to the exit but stopped, when she realized he wasn't following. He was still standing as he had been, staring at the floor. The woman behind the counter was now threatening to call the police. Hermione thought back to what Harry had told her about Snape's stay at the care facility and took a stab in the dark. "Snape, walk to me." Snape turned and walked right over to her. She stepped out the door but he stayed where he was. "Follow me," she said in the same commanding tone-of-voice. He started after her. "Oh, bugger it all," she said with despair.

She walked back towards her car with Snape following behind like a human robot. Her mind whirled with questions and concerns about how to get him to communicate. He wasn't exactly responsive this morning or the night before, but he still seemed to have been a lot more alert than he was now. An obvious conclusion was that he cycled through varying levels of lucidity. She'd have to ask Harry for a copy of his medical file. How to do that without arousing suspicion, she had no idea.

She headed into the car park, arms full of take-away and leading her pet zombie. The sound of feet running alerted her, and she turned to see the same young hoodlums from before.

"Hello, little miss. Not so tough now without your crowd, are you?" the spotty-faced one said.

"Actually, I'm nastier. Are you really going to try and beat up a homeless man and a woman half your size? Just how stupid are you?" Hermione was bluffing. She was still fearful of using magic, not because the Ministry wouldn't allow her to defend herself, but because then they would find Snape. She wasn't about to allow herself to be injured, however. She shoved the bags onto her hip and pulled out her cell and started dialing. The phone was ripped out of her hand and smashed on the ground.

"I don't think so, sweetie." the taller, chubby one said.

Hermione began to be afraid. Her options had boxed her into a corner.

"Your kind of cute when you're afraid," he said, stepping closer.

Hermione took a step backwards and heard Snape make a noise deep in his chest, like a growl. She froze.

"Shut it, old man!" Spotty-face yelled.

The shorter, chubby one started to bray like a donkey and circled around to the side. He pulled a length of pipe from his jacket.

The growl came again and Hermione risked a glance behind her and saw Snape's whole face for the first time. His eyes glittered with malice. His crooked teeth were clenched in a hideous grin

"Oh, no." She turned to the three yobs, who were still working themselves up. "Run, you idiots!"

"What are you on about?" said Spotty-face, just as Tall Chunk raised his fists.

Snape exploded past her, knocking the bags out of her arms.

"Don't kill them!" she shrieked.

* * *

Hermione started her car and shot backwards out of the parking space. "I said put your bloody seatbelt on!" she screamed, as Snape's head thunked against the dash. She shoved the mini into gear and shot forward, reaching across Snape and grabbing the belt. She hooked her arm through it so she could shift again, and then finally got it clicked into place. She came to a screeching halt where the three young men were still screaming and writhing on the ground, one holding his bleeding face, one grabbing his smashed kneecaps, and one cradling an arm bent in an unnatural direction. She threw open the door of the car and jumped out. She snatched up her broken cell, and after a thought, grabbed up the bags of food. She tossed them all into Snape's lap.

"I'm calling the police! That man's dangerous!" screamed Spotty-face through his bloody fingers.

"Oh, fek off, I told you to run!" she snapped back, as she jumped back in the car. She slammed it into gear and shot out of the car park.

"I didn't k-kill that," came the deep voice beside her.

"Yes, I saw that. And you didn't use magic either. I'm very grateful. But it was still a bit… horrible." She remembered the sound of bone snapping and shuddered violently.

"I didn't k-kill."

"I know, Severus. You did well. I'm proud of you."

* * *

It was eleven o'clock that night when John Granger answered the doorbell with a cricket bat in his hand, while his wife stood behind him ready to press the last button to call for help on her cell. They'd been a little high-strung since the night before. He squinted at his daughter standing on the doorstep, holding her pet carrier and a small suitcase with a sleeve and a bra strap hanging out.

"Hermione?"

"Sorry, Dad. My cell's broken. I couldn't call. I need your help."

He looked past his daughter and saw a homeless man holding bags of Chinese take-away.

"Sweetie, tell me that's not—"

"It is. Just let us in, and I can explain."

"Hermione, that man—"

"Saved me twice in twenty-four hours," she interjected. "I was right the first time, Mum. We are connected."

Mr. Granger blinked and then backed away, opening the door wider.

"You'd better come in and explain then."

* * *

"Honestly, Mum. It makes perfect sense. You and Dad won't go into hiding, and he's very protective. Think of him as a guard dog. You know, those breeds that are all sweet and docile until—"

"They maul a child?" said her mother, around a mouthful of reheated Chinese.

"No. I was thinking more along the lines of 'until a stranger breaks in.' Really, if you just think about it—"

"What is he doing? Marking his territory?" asked her father, pointing with his egg roll.

Hermione turned and saw Snape casting spells at the windows and doors. She stood up and walked over to him.

"He's putting up wards," she said with surprise. Snape hadn't moved from the chair just inside the door since they'd arrived. He'd showed no interest in eating at all. Now he was gliding along the sitting room casting spells strong enough to make the curtains move. "Good wards. I don't know half these spells, and he's doing it silently. You see? He wants to protect you!"

"Oh, heavens, Hermione, why do you sound exactly like you did when you brought that kitten home when you were seven?"

Hermione rubbed at her eyes. "I promise to clean up after him and feed him and hide the bodies, I swear."

"Well, it wouldn't hurt to clean him, to start. He stinks to high heavens."

Hermione turned and looked at her father. "You mean it? I can keep him?" She scrubbed at her face. "I can't believe I just said that."

"Of course you can keep him. He saved your life. What kind of bastard would I have to be to toss him back into the street after that?" Her father laughed a bit shrilly. "You realize he probably has ringworm?"

"And lice," her mother added.

"And a host of other complaints, I imagine," Hermione added. "I'll need to run to an apothecary in the morning."

"Good thing your Maiden Aunt—what was her name?"

"Trudy. Great Aunt Trudy."

"Good thing poor Trudy just took that fall and needs help around the house."

"Well, I'll go set the guestroom up," said her mother. "See if you can get him to eat, he's thin as a rail."

Hermione didn't bother to explain that's what he always looked like. They'd gotten him out of his pink coat. After checking the pockets, she'd Vanished it. He was now puttering along intently in what used to be a light-blue jumper and wretchedly filthy, khaki trousers. They looked stranger on him than the pink coat had. His hair was a frizzy, matted mess that sprang up from his head in a handful of directions, none of them correct.

She'd taken his hat off and used several types of Cleaning Charms on it repeatedly and then slipped it into her own jacket pocket. There was something sweet about it, and even though she knew he'd burn it, if he was in his right mind, she wanted to keep it.

"I'll go start him a bath," her father said. "You think he'll mind if I use gloves? I don't want to give my clients any diseases."

"I'll do it, Dad. I'm a big girl. I've done the same at the shelter, and I'd like to keep a close eye on him to see if he does have any violent triggers."

"If you think it's best. I'll go run the water and see if I can find him something to wear."

Hermione watched Snape finish the sitting room and then start up in the dining room. She followed him.

"My parents have agreed to let you stay here, Professor."

He didn't stop what he was doing. She peered into his eyes. They were alert and sparked with intent concentration. It was the closest expression to normal that she'd seen. After the incident in the car park, his eyes had gone back to the dead look that had made her parents shudder.

"Thank you, again, for saving me, and from that Death Eater last night, as well."

Nothing about him showed he was even slightly aware of her. She might as well have been a ghost.

"Snape, why is Dumbledore's portrait keyed to your voice?" Nothing. "Tell me about Lily," she asked, and held her breath.

There was no response at all. He just continued to set his elaborate wards.

Her father called down the stairs to say the bath was run.

"Snape, stop." He did. "Follow me." She turned and walked towards the stairs, and a quick glance showed he followed. His eyes had gone back to that flat, dead look again. She sighed.

* * *

"Good, that's it. Now your trousers. Remove your trousers please." Snape started to unbuckle the belt as Hermione vanished the jumper and the filthy t-shirt that had been hiding underneath it. Her eyes roamed across his torso. Despite his months of deprivation, he was remarkably fit. He didn't have the more common distended belly or the eaten-away-from-the-inside musculature of most homeless. He looked rather sleek and well-defined. As well as badly beaten.

Her mother came in with extra towels and hissed when she saw his bruises. There were far more than what could be accounted for by the yobs tonight.

"He's been through it, hasn't he?"

"That's an understatement, mum."

"Poor man." She placed the towels on the closed lid of the commode. "Do you think it's a genetic flaw that all of us now feel dreadfully sorry for a mass murderer?"

"Mum! Severus, sit on the edge of the tub." Hermione worked his trousers off his boney ankles.

"I'm just saying, you don't think we're all under some sort of spell? Like how he brought you to the Chinese place? It's just not normal."

"Perhaps. I don't know. I think we're just empathetic Gryffindors, one and all. Besides, I really have no idea what normal is. I'm not sure that was clearly defined in this family, even before we found out I was a witch."

"I'd have to agree there. It looks like he does have some ringworm, dear. I have some ointment here for your father's athlete's foot. Use that, it's basically the same thing. Did you check him for lice?"

"Yes, I've taken care of it with magic. If I can get this hair straightened out, I'll get the nits as well."

"It might be better to just shave his head with that spell of yours. Although I dare say, shaving that beard off wasn't much of an improvement."

"I know. But this is Professor Snape. Somehow short hair seems like sacrilege."

"And bathing murderers in my best healing salts isn't?"

"Mum! Don't you need your beauty sleep?"

"Cheeky brat. Alright, I'll leave you to it, but your father is right here if your man gets fresh."

"_Mum!_"

Helen Granger left, leaving the bathroom door open. Hermione got Snape's wand away from him and had him stand back up, drop his pants, and step out of them. He did everything with a fluid grace that surprised her. She kept her eyes on his feet. They were calloused and injured and the nails were dreadfully overgrown and badly broken in places. For all that, they were remarkably elegant feet. Her gaze suddenly strayed and she blushed and looked at the tub. Her eyes seemed to be burned with the afterimage of his sex hanging from a thick nest of black hairs. He had Oliver beat and might could give Ron a run for his money.

"Alright, Severus, step into the bath, carefully, mind."

"Everything alright?" asked her father, popping his head around the doorway.

"So far, let's see if he balks at water."

The two of them watched as he stepped into the tub and stood there.

"Sit down, slowly."

He eased himself down into the tub and chuffed a loud breath.

"Was that pain or pleasure?" her father asked.

"I've no idea."

"Well, those salts will help his muscles. Poor bugger. He's no beauty, but those bruises don't do him any favors. Do you think you could just order him to scrub himself?"

"Worth a try, for all our dignities." She grabbed up a flannel and lathered it up. "I may have done this at the shelter, but I've never washed one of my teachers before." She lifted up his hand and placed the flannel in it. "Severus, wash yourself."

His hands closed around the flannel and he began to scrub at himself.

"Well, that's a bit of luck," her father said, as she sagged onto the floor.

"You have no idea how happy that makes me," she said with feeling.

"I think I can guess. I'm a bit chuffed myself. By the way, did you get in touch with your friends?"

"Yes, I told them I would be staying with you and mum for a while."

"And what about his nibs here? What happens if they show up and find the Wizarding World's Most Wanted because you forgot to call in on time?"

"I don't know. I hope I can figure out how to fix him by then."

"Are you sure he can be fixed?"

"No. But I am sure he is expecting me to."

She ended up having to change the water twice and it took four shampoos and ten minutes with conditioner and a comb to get the tangles out. She got him out of the tub, dry, his skin treated, and into her father's transfigured pajamas. She trimmed his nails and got him onto the bed. By the time she'd finished rubbing cream on the sores on his feet, he was so deeply asleep he looked positively boneless. She would have thought he'd snore, with a nose like that, but he just turned his head to the side and sighed occasionally.

Hermione was struck by how gentle he looked when he slept. None of the madness, none of the constant, angry disapproval from when he was a teacher, he just looked innocent and calm.

She capped the lotion, pulled the blankets over him and headed off to clean up the bathroom.

"I've already done it, dear." her father said. "Go on to bed."

"Thank you, Dad. For everything."

"Hermione, you don't have to thank me. Just don't be wrong about him. That's all I ask." He hugged her hard before she trudged off to find her own bed.

Crooks had reappeared on her pillow but still wasn't speaking to her for the quick Accio into the pet carrier, if the tail across his nose was to be believed. She took several deep breaths and tried to calm her disordered mind, before she rolled over and pulled the blankets over her head.

* * *

TA DA!

In other news: can I just say that I love you all? I really do. Especially the ones that review. Y'all are the bestest ones of all.


	7. Guard Dog

AN: Pogo stick by chap spam.

* * *

_She walked along the moor, the wind whipping about her in anger as the low, steel-colored clouds boiled. She sighed and closed her eyes, lifting her face to the wind._

_"Why here?" she asked, when the footsteps stopped behind her._

_"It's where you bring me," he said._

_"Tell me about Lily."_

_"She didn't love me."_

_"But you loved her."_

_"Yes."_

_"You love her still."_

_"No."_

_"Why?"_

_"The one that loves her still is lost."_

_She turned to face him. His long, straight hair whipped around in the wind. He was wearing the pink coat._

_"Did you enjoy your bath?"_

_"I don't recall a bath."_

_"You have a beautiful body."_

_"I like my hair."_

_"Do you know where you are?"_

_"Thrushcross Granger."_

_She laughed softly._

_"No, just the Grangers."_

_"I will keep them safe. For you."_

_Tears sprang into her eyes._

_"How do I keep you safe? How do I put you back together?"_

_"You must find me."_

_"I did find you!"_

_"I found you."_

_"How do I know this isn't all just a dream?"_

_"It is a dream."_

_"Then where do I find my answers?"_

_"In your dreams."_

_"Tell me something I wouldn't know that I will remember in the morning."_

_"I like when you touch me."_

_She clenched her fists._

_"What is the third choice, Severus?"_

_"You are, Hermione," he said, as he leaned down and kissed her._

* * *

She woke with a gasp.

* * *

Hermione got Snape into her dad's old dressing gown and slippers. Her mother had said she'd heard him get up and use the toilet in the middle of the night, so that was one concern laid to rest. How he managed to be aware, and yet so unaware, was a mystery.

"Follow me," she said. She led him down into the dining room and had him sit in a chair. Crookshanks did his best to trip the man, winding in and out of his feet on the stairs, despite Hermione's threats. Snape just continued walking as if the cat didn't exist.

Her father placed a cooled cup of tea in front of him. "Drink," he said, in the same tone Hermione had been using. Her mother passed down a plate of toast and fried eggs and her father plunked that down in front of Snape as well. "Eat." Snape set about fastidiously eating his meal.

"Oh, he's got nice manners," said her mother. "I was expecting something a bit less civilized."

Hermione placed a napkin in his lap.

"I'm going to jump in the shower," she said.

"Kiss me, then. I'm off to the clinic. I have an early start." Her mother pushed back from the table and leaned her cheek over. "You be careful, dear. I'll take your cell to the dealer on my lunch hour."

"Have a good day, Mum. Thank you for everything."

Her father waved her off. He had a late start at their dental clinic and they'd decided he would watch Snape while Hermione ran to Diagon Alley. He was sitting and staring at Snape as if waiting for him to do something entertaining, as Hermione ran for the shower.

She stripped out of her pajamas and raced through her rituals, all the while musing over her half-remembered dreams. They had managed a much better connection last night. Although it was clear there was still a lot that was easily misinterpreted. Thrushcross Granger was a clear indication that he was picking up her thoughts and trying to make sense of them. That showed he was capable of analytical thought on some level. But why did they always seem to end with a kiss? Why did kissing him seem so right? Was it just the strange reality of dreams that even the oddest thing could seem normal and the most mundane bizarre? Did she want to kiss him in real life?

Well, that answer was obviously no. He was a zombie. She imagined it would be like kissing a fish. And he wasn't particularly good-looking. His face was what could best be described as 'severe', bordering on 'homely.'

He did have a sort of fascinating nobility in her memories of him before the crisis. He'd always had a self-confidence that was rather intriguing, but it was more often occluded by his viciousness. There must have been more sides to him than she'd ever seen though: many Slytherin girls seemed to find him rather dreamy. No doubt they saw a slightly different man than any Gryffindor.

She buttoned up her robes, realizing she'd lost a bit of weight since she'd worn them last. She picked up her wand and took them in a touch at the waist.

Grabbing her cloak, she headed downstairs thinking about the different aspects of the man. Even now, after his psychotic break, he seemed distinctly compartmentalized.

"No, Snape, you need to finish your pears! Where are you—blast."

Hermione looked up to see Snape standing in front of her and her father trailing after him with a plate of sliced fruit.

"Dad, he's not a toddler. If he's done, he's done."

"Your mother said he needed to eat. He's obviously starved."

"He's naturally thin."

"That thin?"

"Yes. He actually seems to have filled out a bit since he was a teacher. I think the stress might have taken its toll."

"Being a teacher was more stressful than being homeless? What a bunch of little beasts you were."

"He was a spy for a long time before he lost his mind."

"Sounds like losing his mind was a perfectly rational choice."

Hermione's head came up. "Do you think? Could going insane have been a choice?"

Her father shook his head. "No, dear. All parents have tried for that option. It's doesn't seem to be voluntary. Off you go, the sooner gone, the sooner back. I can't call out because of an elderly aunt. Your mother knows I haven't got one."

Hermione put her cloak on and headed for the back door. She always Disapparated from the fenced-in area by the potting shed. "I should be no more than an hour. Severus, no. You must stay here." Snape had followed her to the door.

"Odd," her father said. "He's more aware now than he's been all morning."

Hermione looked in his eyes and saw the usual flat, lifeless expression. Nothing about him showed the slightest awareness but the fact that he was obviously intending to come with her.

She laid a hand on his cheek and peered into his eyes, unsure of what she was looking for. He didn't even twitch. "You must stay here," she said firmly. "You must protect the house."

As if she'd hit an 'on' button, his eyes suddenly sparked with life and purpose. He looked right through her and pulled out his wand. He started setting his wards in the kitchen.

Hermione and her father just watched him.

"Hurry back, dear. This might be a little more creepy than I can handle for long."

"Will do, Dad."

* * *

Hermione left Slug & Jiggers with as many magical ointments and elixirs, unguents, and tinctures, as she thought necessary. The shop keeper had been well-pleased to take her Galleons.

She scurried along towards the stationary store to stock up on writing supplies when her eye tripped over a sign she'd seen so often she'd stopped paying attention to it. She stopped now and contemplated it. "Dash and Haberey Gentlemen's Tailoring. Right. I got it," she said to the air. There was no particular reason why she would give this tiny little shop front any more attention than she ever had in the past unless a certain someone was trying to tell her something. She pushed open the door, and a tone sounded as a ward was tripped. An ugly little troll of a man scurried out from behind a curtain.

"How can I be of service?" he asked with polite, if austere, courtesy.

"I need clothes for a gentlemen as quickly as possible. Have you anything readymade? He's had a bit of a wardrobe malfunction."

The ugly man scowled at her. "You need to take better care of your man's things. His appearance is more important to his bearing in society than even his purse. Yes, I have some things that might be of use. I assume he needs everything?"

"Yes, sir. It was a total loss."

"Color preferences?"

"Dark. Preferably black."

"Ah, a man who appreciates understatement."

Hermione tried to control her face as her mind picked up the image of Snape in his pink coat, lime-green mittens and rugby hat, and waved it around as if hoping the troll of a tailor could see it in her eyes.

* * *

Packages shrunk and hidden in the deep pockets of her cloak, she hurried along to the Apparition point, more than a bit giddy at her luck. She was about to turn into her spin when she heard her name. She looked up and saw Ginny holding Lily and trailing James.

"Heavens, you move fast, I've been trying to catch you since you left that tailor shop."

"Oh, I'm so sorry! My mind was a thousand miles away."

"I see that. How are you? I'm surprised to see you here in the middle of the week. Taking a day off?"

"Yes, actually. I needed a day to get my things squared away at my parents. You understand."

"Of course. I'm glad you've moved in with them. We all feel much better knowing you're not alone. Would you care for lunch?"

Hermione really did want to sit down with her friend and have a long talk and play with her niece and nephew. She wanted more than anything to share what was going on and ask for advice. If taking leave from her job had made her feel bad for lying, it didn't hold a candle to lying to her friend.

"I would love to, but I promised my Dad I wouldn't be gone long. We got a new guard dog, you see. You should probably tell Ron, I know he's become allergic."

"I will. What type of dog?"

"He's a half-blood, er, mixed-blood—I mean, mixed _breed_."

"Do you know what mix? That can make them either more stable or less, you know."

"Oh, he's pretty unstable, trust me, but he likes me. That's why I need to get back home. I'm a little worried about leaving him alone with my father."

"Alright, I won't keep you. Just don't expect a dog to stop a Death Eater, Hermione. Keep alert."

"I will." She kissed and hugged the children before turning into her spin.

* * *

"Thank the Lord!" her father shouted from the sitting room, when she'd closed the back door. Snape appeared in the kitchen immediately but stopped and settled into his usual blank staring when she saw him.

"Dad? Are you alright?" She hurried into the sitting room with her wand gripped in her hand. Her father was sitting in his comfy chair, but the chair had been moved to the middle of the room.

"I can't get up!" he snapped. "That bastard has me stuck to this chair!"

"Finite," she said, with a flick. "What happened? Are you hurt?"

"No, I'm fine. Just angry." He stood up out of the chair and stomped towards the stairs. "I think the git was _protecting_ me. Stupid bastard. I just needed to go change for work and he wasn't done fussing with his wand. So he stuck me to that chair. When he finally finished with the upstairs he came back down and walked in circles around me staring out the windows. I think this guard dog business is a little too apt. Do you think he's picking it up from us and acting accordingly? If we all start thinking of him as a kitten is he going to pull apart your mother's knitting?"

Hermione smiled briefly at her father's analogy but then her thoughts caught up with her. "You know? I think you might be on to something. I made a completely unplanned stop at his old tailor's today. I'm sure he put the idea in my head. I think this link might be more reciprocated than I thought."

"Well, stop thinking of him as a damned dog before he runs up to me with a leash!" Her father waved a finger at her. "You'll be the one taking him for a walk!" He said and stomped up the stairs.

Hermione started to pull her packages out of her pockets. "Snape, come," she said. He walked out of the kitchen toward her. She reached up and stroked his straight, lank hair. "Good boy."

"_Not_ amusing, Hermione!" her father called down.

"Follow me, please," she said heading up the stairs with her packages, stopping to snatch a towel out of the bathroom. She headed into the guestroom and dropped the parcel of clothing on the chair before expanding and opening the package full of medicines. When they were set up on the bedside table, she turned toward Snape.

"Let's see how many things you can do in a row. Remove your all clothes. Lay on the bed here, and then cover your hips with this towel," she said, laying a towel on the bed. She looked up and saw him pulling the dressing gown off and scurried out of the room.

"All set then? I'm off," her father said as he came out of the bathroom.

"I think so. I'm about to do some healing—see if I can't do something about his skin."

"We should see about getting him to the clinic if we can. He looks like he's headed for trouble with those teeth."

"Perhaps… Let's not push it. Besides, remember how much equipment you had to replace the last time you worked on a wizard?"

"True." He stopped and looked his daughter in the eye. "You be careful, Hermione. He might be on your side, but he's not capable of thinking through what he's doing. Remember that."

"I will."

They both heard the creak of the bed frame.

"Good luck. If he gets fresh, you zap him into next week, hear? Call us if you need us. I'll probably call you later anyway just to check."

"I will, thanks Dad."

With a peck on the forehead he was gone. Hermione took a deep breath and walked into the guestroom.

Snape had followed her instructions to the letter. He was staring at the ceiling, while stretched out naked on his back, with the towel bunched up across the top his hips, a few inches above his cock. Hermione made a face.

"Thank you, sir. I'm going to do a bit of healing now. You just relax." She tugged the towel down with only a hint of awkwardness and cast a warming charm across his goose-bumped skin.

She started with his feet, massaging in the unguent that would heal the sores before layering on the anti-fungal. She moved on up his legs, treating bruises and abrasions and infections, and getting more than an eyeful whenever she bent his leg. She felt like a voyeur. She twitched the towel to fall between his legs.

"This is ridiculous," she said to him. "If you were Ron or Oliver, this wouldn't be a big deal. You're injured and I'm taking care of you. That's all it is. Healers see naked bodies all the time. I don't see why I have to keep trying to make a big deal about it." She smirked and looked up at his face, still staring blankly at the ceiling. "Although it is a bit of a big deal, isn't it? I bet you're a bit smug." She finished with his legs and refolded the towel to reveal one hip. She set about rubbing the bruise paste carefully onto the boot marks from last night.

"You're not a dog, you know. I do see you as protective, but I don't really think of you as a Rottweiler. You're a teacher. You're a wizard. You're a highly intelligent man, and I suspect a bit of a sensitive soul. You are Severus Snape. That makes you more than the sum of your parts, Professor. Speaking of parts, let's have a look at you, no sense having you stay injured because I'm being a silly little girl." She recast the warming charm and lifted the towel away, inspecting his pubic hair for vermin. "Do you remember when you used to call me a silly little girl? You had several rather painful names you used to call me. Know-it-all, Bookworm. You had such an amazing way of making me feel stupid for having admired you. And then, just when I'd hate you, you'd do something admirable again." She sighed.

"Such a perverse man you are. But obviously not that perverse. You could give a girl a complex, you know. When a lady handles your bits, the least you could do is have an involuntary reaction and blush. You look fine to me but I wonder if all of your nerves are functioning. I'm no expert, but I did think certain things were beyond a bloke's control. Oh! Good heavens. Right. Nerves are good. No! That's good!" She grabbed the towel and dropped it in his lap. "Thank you for that impressive display. I see everything functions." She blushed furiously. "Did you do that on demand? Heavens, talk about control issues." She smoothed her hair out of her face and took a few deep breaths.

She worked on his torso in silence, deeply embarrassed and ignoring her own body's response to the feel of his skin and the sleek muscles underneath. She was more than a little disgusted with herself.

"Roll over," she said. "I mean, please turn onto your stomach, sir." She layered on the healing salves, ignored how nice his bum was, and fell back into her nervous chatter. "As I was saying, you are not a dog. You are a man. I doubt seriously if you appreciate being manhandled by a former student and I do feel dreadful for this assault on your dignity. I'm sorry you had the misfortune to end up mysteriously connected to a dried up stick of a girl with an overactive imagination. If we are dreaming the same dreams, I'm dreadfully sorry about the kissing. Although you're the one that always starts it. Which is rather odd, when you think about it. Why _are_ you kissing me? Is it just my underutilized libido? Or is there something more? Is the kiss a message? That would make a lot more sense than your developing romantic feelings for me. I wonder what message a kiss would impart? Besides the obvious, of course. There, that's done. Turn over onto your back, if you would, sir."

Snape turned back over.

"Alright, don't tell my parents, they'd kill me, but I think it would be better if we dealt with your teeth the easy way. Could you open your—Snape?"

He was looking at her. It was the first time she'd looked into his eyes and he was actually looking back.

She leaned up onto her knee and stared down at him. "Severus?"

"Miss Granger."

She gave a happy yell and threw herself down on top of him. "Oh, Professor! You're back! You're back! What do you need? What do you want me to do?" She pushed back up and stared down at him, but fell silent at the strange look on his face. She backed away and he followed her up until he was sitting. "Sir?"

"However dangerous it is, if you read Silver Daggers, Golden Rules, by Harvey Oxmix, you will see clearly that in extreme cases the use of Soul Magic could be beneficial if the subject were in danger of their mortal soul becoming irretrievably corrupted."

Hermione's legs went wobbly, and she sat down hard on the floor of the bedroom. "That's my essay. You're quoting my essay…"

"As usual, Miss Granger, you seek to stand tall on your pillar of knowledge and completely miss the fact that without the blocks called, Sprague, Windlass and Eiderfold, your pillar is a stump and you are as ripe for ridicule as ever."

Snape stood up until his naked body was looming over her. She scrambled up off the floor.

"I've read them! I went back and read everything there was on Soul Magic! What am I missing? What do I need? Tell me!"

He reached out and grabbed her upper arms and pulled her up against his body. He leaned down and for one wild moment, she thought he was going to kiss her, but when his nose touched her face he just looked deep into her eyes with his fiery black ones and said, "Find me."

The blazing light in his eyes started to fade as the hands on her arms relaxed.

"No! Don't go!" Panicked, she did the first thing that came to mind. She kissed him. She leaned up on her toes and grabbed his face and kissed him hard on the mouth. She could feel him receding under her hands. The tautness of his muscles relaxed and his posture shifted. When she pulled back she was staring into his dull, flat eyes again.

She turned and sagged down on the bed and started to cry.

* * *

Yesh? Nar? Mebbe?

Show me the love, people...


	8. Retribution for the Golden Child

AN: Moonwalk by chap spam

* * *

"Please peel and crush the garlic. There's a love. When you are done, dice these peppers. Then I'll need the carrots peeled and sliced, big or small, you pick."

Hermione smoothed her hands down her black dress-robes and patted at her hair as she walked into the kitchen.

"Mum! I thought you were talking to Dad! Professor Snape is not a food processor!"

"Darling, your father and I snuck his medical file into the office today and read it on our lunch hour. I assure you, he should be a vegetable, himself."

"Mum! I went crazy looking for that! You shouldn't be messing with my things. And you should _not_ be making Snape do chores!"

Hermione hurried over to where Snape was making quick work of a pile of vegetables. He looked so odd in his own robes standing in her mother's kitchen slicing vegetables. His hand movements were deft and economical. Obviously there were muscle memories at play.

"Oh calm down, dear. It gives him a purpose. On some level, he knows he's just been standing around. Now he knows he's helping make dinner, although I think he shorted out the microwave. Stop fussing. I've not turned him into slave labor, you know. I'm just giving him a sense of direction. Should I save you out a plate?"

"No, Ginny said Molly's been cooking up a storm. It's what she always does when she's upset."

"I can't say as I blame her." Her mother wiped her hands on her apron and walked over to the fridge. "Here. I picked this up this afternoon on my way home for you to take with you." She handed Hermione a bakery box. "It's a caramel cake. I'm sure Molly has things well in hand, but I thought since we couldn't attend…"

"That was lovely of you, Mum. Thanks."

"I didn't know your Mr. Moody, but the Malfoy boy was so earnest. It's hard to imagine him being dead. It's just so sad, what with his mother being killed, and his father dying in prison. That's the lot of them gone. Terrible."

Hermione nodded around the sudden lump in her throat and placed the cake on the table. She was swinging her cloak onto her shoulders when she became aware of a hissing noise. She looked up to see Snape rocking back and forth slightly and making strange sounds in his throat.

"He heard you," Hermione said. "He understood what you said."

"Well of course he did, that's what I was trying to say earlier."

"You don't understand, Mum. Draco was his godson. He spared his life the night he went mad. _After_ he went mad."

"Oh, dear."

Helen Granger walked over to where Snape was still dicing peppers while rocking emitting a strange strangled keen. "I'm so sorry, Severus. I'm terribly sorry for your loss. Oh, stop, dear. Please stop dicing." Snape put the blade down and stepped back. His eyes were full of sadness and tears streamed down his face. "It wasn't your fault."

Snape turned away from her mother and faced Hermione.

"I didn't k-kill that," he said.

"It wasn't the same man, Severus. You got the one they sent after me, but there were more that night. You saved me, or I would have been just as dead as Draco and Moody. You can't save everyone."

Snape turned away from her and resumed his sad noise. Hermione put her hand on his shoulder but he didn't react.

"I'm so sorry, Severus. I should have told you."

She stayed there with him for another fifteen minutes, but he didn't seem to care. Eventually, she picked up the cake and headed out the back door to head to Grimmauld Place for Moody and Draco's memorial Service. She kept looking behind her, but Snape didn't try to follow.

* * *

Hermione sat in Harry's kitchen as the Order members filed in and out. The service had been a stirring mix of memorial and call to arms that had left Hermione feeling like a fraud.

She'd spent so much time away. Even with the nearly weekly visits with her friends, she'd managed to insulate herself from the day-to-day decisions that were being made. Lives were being lost, and she'd barely felt a thing. She wasn't contributing to the war effort. In fact, she was actively keeping secrets from her friends and from her Order superiors. God help her, she was even lying to her friends in the Muggle world.

Hermione felt like her world had turned inside out and she didn't know how to fix it. It would all be so much easier if she could explain to them why Snape was important enough to keep safe. It seemed perfectly obvious to her and her parents.

Admittedly, her parents had only come around when they'd understood just how much danger Hermione had been in and how much they owed Snape. He'd saved their little girl twice, he'd have to go far to turn their opinion around after that. Their taking a liking to the disabled man was just a bonus.

She had to wonder at herself. It just wasn't like her to play her cards this close to the vest. She wasn't someone to hide the truth, or avoid a confrontation. She was beginning to wonder if her connection to Snape was changing her personality. It was certainly clouding her mind. She couldn't help but feel like she should have had the answers already, but had been blinded somehow. She felt like a part of her brain wasn't functioning correctly, now that she was linked to Snape's damaged brain

Enough was enough. She needed to find another way to handle this. She needed to let Harry know what was going on.

She looked up as a tea cup slid into her field of view on the tabletop in front of her.

"Hello, Lavender. You need someone to hold Daisy for a while?" she asked sliding her chair back and holding out her arms.

"Thanks, she's fed and changed. She should be sleepy."

"Well, she cried herself out, didn't she?"

"Yeah, Molly says babies are empathetic. I believe her. She certainly picked up on the emotions in the room during the service."

Hermione started to rock the little one in her arms.

"Do you think we're all this empathetic, but our thoughts just get in the way as we get older?" she asked

"Professor Trelawney thought so. It was her premise that we all have gifts, just some of us shut them down to hear the 'mundane whimperings of the temporal world.'"

The two women laughed together quietly at Lavender's spot-on impersonation of her favorite teacher in school. Ron came up and slid into the seat across from them.

"What are you two laughing about?"

"Nothing. Everything," Hermione said.

"Anything," Lavender added.

"How you been, Hermione? Settling in at your parents alright? Ginny says you have a new dog."

Hermione's gut clenched at the lie. Daisy started to fuss.

"Yeah, it's good. I'm good."

"You know, a dog isn't—"

"I know, Ron. I know," she said, needing to shift the conversation away as quickly as possible for her own sanity. "Any news on the people responsible?"

"Yeah. The guy that Snape gave you didn't hold up to Harry's Legilimency. He gave us the names of several new Death Eaters we didn't have before, as well as Mulciber's hiding place in Brighton. Unfortunately, we can't get in there. They have some kind of lethal ward. Anyone who tries to get past it who's not got the Dark Mark dies. Harry's pretty sure the Dark Lord's not there, but it seems that Mulciber's making a lot of decisions at the moment anyway. He's the one that ordered Draco and Moody taken out, Along with you and Neville. Shame Snape didn't get him as well, the malignant bastard. These second string Death Eaters are nowhere near as smart as the old guard. I'm grateful Snape took out the Lestranges and the others. Mulciber and Yaxley are the last of the old guard. I don't really count Goyle and—are you alright?"

Yes," Hermione said, handing Daisy back to her mother. "I just got dizzy for a moment. You were saying?"

"Just that we have some leads. Hopefully we'll get someplace."

They both sipped their tea, Hermione trying to clear her head of the strange swooping sensation that had overcome her for a moment.

"I didn't know Harry knew Legilimency," she said, after a while.

"Yeah, Draco got him interested in it. He says he's not that good but I think he's good enough. He can tell when he's being lied to for sure."

"So Draco taught him?"

"Nah, just pointed him in the right direction to research."

"It sounds like a good tool for an Auror to have. Have you thought about learning?"

"Nah, I don't have the inclination. I prefer tracking the suspects. I leave questioning them to others. I've been charged with trying to find a way in to Mulciber's hideout."

Hermione was about to offer her help when her cell rang. She apologized, and when she saw who it was, she excused herself from the table. As usual, when in a magical home, the connection was terrible.

"Hello, Mum?"

"Hermione! — gone! His eyes — out the door! I tried to stop — but he didn't —Your —ther said I should let you — right away."

"Okay, Mum, I'm on my way. I'll be right there."

"Trouble?" Ron asked.

"A bit; my parents lost the dog. It really shouldn't be running free. I should get home and find it."

"Dogs aren't worth it, if you ask me."

"I know, Ron. I know."

Hermione made her excuses and said her goodbyes and hurried home.

* * *

"What happened?" asked Hermione when she came in the door. She noticed Snape's carefully laid wards were down, a quick sweep with her wand showed they were gone from the entire house.

"He was fine," her father said. "We'd cleaned up the meal and he was just sitting there, easy as you please. Your cat noticed something wrong first. He hissed and jumped off his lap."

"Crooks was on his lap?"

"Yes, not that Snape paid him the slightest attention. When he hissed I looked over and Snape had this queer look in his eye. Made my blood run cold. He was alert but angry. More than angry. He was downright scary looking."

"Then he just stood up," her mother added. "He walked over to the door and went out into the back yard. I ran along next to him trying to get him back in the house but I could have been a gnat for all the attention he paid me. Then he just Disapperated. We ran back inside and called you. Your father was afraid something might have happened to you and that's why he left."

"No. I was fine. I was just talking to Ron and Lavender when you called."

"How's the baby?" her mother, asked in a hysteria-induced non-sequitur.

"She's beautiful. Of course," Hermione answered distractedly. "Do you think I should go look for him?"

"I've been asking myself that," said her father. "Where would we look? I think all we can do is hope he comes back."

"This feels bad," she said to her parents. "I fear this is very bad."

* * *

Snape never returned that night and he was gone all of Friday as well. Hermione spent hours sitting in the guestroom stroking Crookshanks and staring at the walls hoping for some sign, or impulse, or feeling, but it was as if they'd lost their connection. He hadn't been in her dreams that night and she had no sudden notion to go anywhere or pick up anything. Even her overwhelming certainty that she was supposed to help him had evaporated.

She was deep into her despair Friday afternoon, when she felt her medallion heat up. She pulled it out from her collar and read the message from Ginny, asking her to come to Order Headquarters as soon as possible. Hermione's nerves shattered as she grabbed up her cloak and pulled her wand out of her sleeve.

* * *

"Hermione! I'm so glad you're here!"

"What happened, Gin?"

"It's Snape." Hermione couldn't stop all the varied emotions that ran across her face in that heartbeat. Thankfully, Ginny was too distracted to notice.

"What did he do?"

"He's started killing again. He attacked Mulciber's hideout last night."

Hermione almost got sick. She'd made it as far as the kitchen but then had to sit down hard.

Ginny knelt down in front of her. "Harry said you were pretty upset that he was going to arrest him the other day. I figured you should hear it from me first. He's still insane, Hermione. He butchered eight people, including Mulcibur, and left them outside the hideout in Brighton. Muggles found the bodies. Some of them weren't identifiable. It's a huge headache for the Ministry, trying to contain the Muggle reactions."

Hermione moaned as she started to put the pieces together. The conversation she'd had with Ron the night before just as she felt that strange dizzying sensation. The call from her parents moments later. The feeling of being disconnected from him all night and all day. Somehow Snape had read her mind. He'd heard what Ron had told her, or she'd transmitted it to him, and he'd removed the connection. He'd gotten what he wanted and cast her aside.

"Was anyone innocent hurt?" she asked in a whisper.

"No. Only Death Eaters."

"How do they know it was him?"

"He was seen. A muggle described him down to the last button on the cuff of his trousers."

"Oh, Merciful Mother. How much of his soul is left?"

Ginny looked at her with concern. "What do you mean?"

"My research. Each time Snape kills, more of his soul gets torn away. He needed to store all the broken pieces in the same inanimate object—keep them together—or his hope for survival would fail."

"Store it? You mean like in a Horcrux?"

"Exactly like a Horcrux."

"Oh Circe, Hermione, that means he's just like—"

"No. Intent is the key. The Dark Lord _wanted_ to be evil. He wants to live forever. I don't know what Snape's intent is, but I know from watching Harry's memories that Snape isn't evil. Each death he causes hurts him, if he had surrendered to evil it wouldn't. I've talked to Remus, Minerva and Kingsley. Snape had never actually killed anyone before that night on the Astronomy Tower. Caused deaths, yes. Taken life with his own hands? No. I'm convinced Dumbledore and Snape had a plan. He was supposed to kill Albus, but something went wrong. I don't know what."

"Now you sound like Ron."

"I know. I think Ron was right all along. The right answer isn't always dependant on logic. Just truth. It's the proof I'm short on."

"Well, proving him innocent of the Headmaster's death might get him into the Janus Thickey ward instead of Azkaban where he would he kissed. From what you've said, there won't be much for the Dementors to take."

Hermione felt a frisson chase down her spine at Ginny's words.

"Ginny, I have to go."

"Are you sure? I think you should wait. Harry said we can expect some kind of big retaliation from the Dark Lord, to prove he's not afraid of Snape."

"No, it's something you said. I think I just remembered something I forgot in my research. I need to check it out. I'll be careful. I'm awake to the danger now, Gin. No more drifting on the edges of both of my worlds."

"Do you want me to come with you? Mum has the kids."

"No. You'd just be watching me research. I'll send you a message later to let you know I'm alright."

Ginny gave her a hug. "Are you sure you're alright?"

"Are any of us alright anymore Gin?"

"No. I think none of us will ever be completely alright again."

* * *

Hermione Apparated to her flat. She arrived in a secluded stand of trees across the street in the park. Wand in hand, she scanned the area before Disillusioning herself and moving closer.

Once inside, she locked and warded the doors and windows. She grabbed the pensieve out of its hiding place and added the last memory. She sat on her sofa and without any preamble, plunged her face in, feeling the familiar slide as her mind fell in.

* * *

_Voldemort had no body of his own. He was just a cancerous growth on Peter Pettigrew's pain-wracked body. He'd been admiring his progress in the cheval glass set before his throne. Only two other Death Eaters were in attendance in the abandoned Lestrange Estate. Bellatrix, her husband, and his brother, along with many others had all been hunted down and killed by the mad vigilante that had been their former brother. Dolohov and Avery held vigil at their lord's side, waiting for him to be strong enough to transfer to a new body of his own. _

_Pettigrew, no longer capable of speech, moaned and distracted the Dark Lord from his own reflection. There had been a sound. An unnatural sound. _

_Hermione could feel the fear emanating off the thing that would become the Dark Lord again if given enough time. He felt death creeping for him again and even though death had no mastery over him, there was always the troubling fear that he was less each time he conquered it. It had taken two years to regenerate to this point. Much faster than last time, but he wasn't sure he could do it again as quickly, if needed._

_Hermione focused her sight on that little bit of the Dark Lord's peripheral vision that included the mirror. She saw him first. _

_Dolohov and Avery had moved quickly to place themselves between the Dark Lord and the doors in front of the throne. Snape came from behind. He was just there, in the room already. Deathly pale and convulsing, he was terrifying, nonetheless. _

_She stared at his gait, looked at his eyes, watched his hands and understood what she was seeing clearly for the first time. Snape wasn't having seizures. He wasn't suffering from any Muggle brain injury. He was simply missing too many pieces of his soul. He looked like someone who had been a plaything of the Dementors. Who'd only had half his soul sucked out, because he hadn't been kissed completely. _

_That's what he had been trying to tell her in their dreams. He hadn't been trying to kiss her; he'd been trying to tell her he'd basically already been kissed._

_He clutched his personal Horcrux to his chest, grasping the talisman that contained the pieces of his broken soul with his endlessly twitching hand. Yet when he raised his wand, it didn't tremble at all. When the moment came, he was steady as a rock. He drew on the pieces he still held inside himself and used their strength to do what he mistakenly believed he had to do. _

_The lights went out. The Dark Lord screamed like a frightened child before Hermione was flung out of the memory._

* * *

Hermione made one more stop before she returned to her parents' house. She stopped at Hogwarts to borrow the library copy of Silver Daggers, Golden Rules, by Harvey Oxmix. It was time to reread the book, now that she knew what she didn't know. She'd torn through the ancient copies of the texts by Sprague, Windlass, and Eiderfold. Delphinius Sprague's book had been the most illuminating—but she had not gone back to read the book that he had disparaged in her paper. That had been unforgivably stupid.

Hermione spent the evening doing research. Her parents and even her cat had been subdued. They checked on her and brought her meals, but otherwise kept to themselves, watching the telly quietly in their bedroom.

It was one o'clock in the morning when she felt the strange swooping sensation a second time. She was sure that Snape had reconnected their link. She wondered what set of criteria had been met that he would do so again. Was he hoping she would be privy to the location of his next victims? Or was he only now, able to cobble together enough will to reach out? How much pain he was in? Did the shards still hurt? Or had he lost so much that the broken pieces of his soul rattled around inside with plenty of room to drift, disconnected from the spark at his center?

Hermione understood now what he had been doing, but his plan would only work if he kept the pieces of his soul in the one inanimate object, until she could help. He'd left his Horcrux behind at the hospital all those months ago. That's why Snape had been so meticulous about not killing since. Not because he was proud of himself, but because it meant his insane plan was still feasible. Up until last night, when he'd sought retribution for Draco and ripped several more pieces of his soul away.

How much soul a person had was a metaphysical question beyond Hermione's abilities. But it was obvious from seeing him just before he'd killed Voldemort the second time that he believed he hadn't had much left.

Those last murders had driven his conscious mind away. He'd ended up lying in the gutter of a Muggle village, endlessly convulsing and raving. They'd cared for him, calmed him, even did their best to ameliorate his symptoms. Their surgery had reset his neurological damage, but it couldn't reintegrate the soul he kept clutched in his hand each and every day. His attempt at spontaneous healing had knitted his brain back together, but left him nearly catatonic.

In the end, he'd sat there, day after day, waiting for a command, an order, a politely phrased request—a nearly empty husk, only one or two steps above the poor sods who's been kissed in Azkaban—but his spark had remained. He still had a drive; he still had a mission. He could rally his small bits of reserve and act. He could project himself out and connect with her, soothe her parents' fears, read her mind… and visit her dreams.

Hermione understood so much now, but she couldn't help him until he came to her again. She went to bed hoping for a dream.

* * *

Is it me? or is this turning onto a 'thing?' I am having a ridiculous amount of fun!


	9. Unleashed

AN: Zombie Stomp by chap spam (last one until I get some serious sleep)

* * *

Hermione woke up with that gritty water-logged soreness that told her that, despite the fact that she'd slept so hard she hadn't bothered to rollover at all, she still wasn't rested. She couldn't remember a single dream.

Crookshanks trilled a greeting, asking her if she should bother waking.

"I'm up, old man. Might as well get on with things."

She fed her beast and switched on the kettle when she heard her mother stirring about. She hopped into the shower and tried to finish the process of waking up.

Her mother had breakfast on the table when she came down.

"I see you're a Muggle again," she nodded at her clothing choices. "What's you agenda for the day?"

"I thought I'd go to the shelter. Just because our lives have taken a strange turn this week doesn't mean I should forget my friends that life overwhelmed completely."

"Sounds like a very good plan. You know, I've been thinking of this connection thing. Do you think your connection to your professor is what steered you towards working with the homeless?"

"Yes, I do. I thought of it too. But it doesn't make it less worthwhile just because I've been manipulated."

"Oh, I wouldn't say manipulated, dear. I don't think there was that much thought put into it. I think he was living homeless, before he ended up in that hospital for three years, and you somehow knew. That's all."

Hermione conceded that her mother had a more valid point. She knew she was bordering on pouting. She didn't like feeling so disposable as far as Snape's agenda went.

Her father shuffled into the room and dropped a kiss on her head before slouching off to the tea pot.

She ate her cereal and headed to the shelter.

* * *

John Granger was getting ready for his morning appointments at the dental clinic and had just finished shaving when he heard the glass shatter. He mopped his face with the towel quickly and dashed into the hall.

"Helen? Are you alright?"

He didn't get an answer and hurried downstairs, right into the arms of the Death Eater hiding against the wall. He looked over and saw his wife, held fast by another masked man. A gloved hand was over her mouth and the man started laughing as she flailed about in his arms, trying to break free.

* * *

The breakfast rush was over and Hermione had just finished loading her cart with the meals, as well as coffee, donuts, hats, mittens and blankets to go out in search of those that didn't, couldn't or wouldn't come to the shelter.

"I'm off, Ben. I should be back in an hour."

"Righto. Ask Sir Walter about the oil prices. He was going on about them yesterday, so I dumped my shares."

Hermione laughed and headed down the street.

* * *

Helen and John Granger sat in chairs facing each other while their daughter's cat hissed and spat between them. They didn't take their eyes off each other. There were spells holding them to the chairs, and others preventing them from making a sound. They couldn't tell each other how much they loved each other, so they tried to put it into their eyes as their house burned around them and the smoke began to choke their lungs.

John Granger was grateful for his life. He was grateful for his wife. He quietly thanked the Lord for his daughter and her special gifts. He could accept his wretched fate had it just been him, but he strained against his magical bonds because it wasn't just him. His wife, his beautiful bride, was trying to be strong, but they both felt the desolation that comes with knowing you'd betrayed the one you love. Having had no choice in the matter didn't soften the pain. The Death Eaters knew where Hermione was because her parents had been unable to resist the magical compulsion. Their deaths, and the death of their daughter were meant to be a lesson for those who tried to fight against them. A further blow to frighten and weaken the magical population. Smoke started to burn at his lungs and he coughed soundlessly through teeth he couldn't unclench. His wife told him repeatedly how much she loved him with her eyes.

* * *

"Alice! How's the new baby? I have a new hat for her, would you like one to match?" Hermione leaned down and tugged the tiny hat onto the doll's head. "There she is, all warm and snug."

"Oh, how darling! Such a love."

"I brought you a bit of food, you need to keep your strength up after that delivery, I'm sure."

"Oh, seventeen hours of torture and the doctors still had to go in and get her. She'll be a stubborn one, for sure."

"Well, stubborn in the right way is a good quality in a girl, I say."

* * *

John was having trouble seeing, his eyes were burning from the smoke and heat and he couldn't stop blinking. The smoke was going to kill him before the flames reached them. That would be a mercy. He thought he heard sirens over the roaring of the fire. He prayed they would see it was hopeless and not try to save them. The Death Eaters had left spells by the doors to kill anyone that came in.

He felt his daughter's cat leaping from his lap to Helen's again. If ever there was a need for proof that this was no ordinary animal, this was it. The cat was trying to free them but its efforts were fruitless.

There was a long, grinding groan from the ceiling above them and John realized that the smoke might not get him first after all. He clenched his eyes closed and prayed.

He screamed silently at the sound of wood and plaster exploding but didn't feel the burning rubble he'd expected.

He opened his streaming eyes and saw a black shape against the sky where the wall had been blown apart, as the fresh air turned the room into an inferno. He felt Crookshanks leap back into his lap and dig his claws in as a bubble of sweet cool air enveloped him. John's chair was lifted off the floor and floated swiftly towards the wall that used to contain a lovely picture window and now held life in the form of a howling, demented man, with eyes full of rage. He felt himself jostled as Helen's chair bumped against him. Their swollen, blood-shot eyes met and they shared an emotion that didn't have words.

Snape threw them both to safety in the back yard as the ceiling collapsed behind them.

* * *

Harry and Ginny were enjoying a late breakfast, after having indulged in the Saturday family cuddle that was really an excuse for the parents to indulge in a usually ineffective lie-in. Their laughter cut off at the sound of an abnormally loud crack of Apparition just outside the front door.

They had been at this too long. There were no startled glances, no curious looks exchanged. Ginny snatched Lily out of her seat and hit James with a spell that made him bob along behind her like a balloon as she fled up the stairs.

Harry had already grabbed his amulet and was sending a message to the Order, as he hurtled down the hall towards the front door with a thousand scenarios in his head and visions of his parents' last moments floating before his eyes. He gripped his wand tight and quickly cast a Shielding Charm, as the front door exploded inward.

However many scenarios Harry had envisioned, they hadn't included the sight of Severus Snape standing there with two badly-injured people in his arms and Crookshanks attached to his shoulders, fur standing out and screaming his feline anger at the world. It took a moment for Harry to recognize Hermione's parents. His gut clenched when he realized Hermione wasn't with them.

"Here! Bring them in here!" Harry pointed to the sitting room. Snape ignored him and laid them both down on the floor at his feet. Mr. Granger clutched at Snape and tried to speak but his voice only came out in a croak. Snape pried his fingers away as Crookshanks jumped down and circled the couple on the floor, tail lashing. Harry heard his Floo activate and the sound of Apparitions outside at the same time.

"Freeze, Snape!" Harry heard Kingsley say from outside.

Snape didn't respond, he just backed up out the door and Apparated away with a much quieter pop. Harry could hear the spells crackling in his wake.

"Let him go! We have injured here!" Harry screamed.

Ron came running out of the drawing room, Remus on his heels, shedding a cloud of ash.

"Oh gods, Harry!" Ron shouted. "Where's Hermione? She'd be at her shelter on a Saturday, wouldn't she?"

"I think so. We need to get a team over there, now."

Molly had arrived and was pushing people out of the way to get at the Grangers.

"Arthur, help me get them off the floor. Fred! You run home and get my potions box!"

Harry took a moment to tell his wife he loved her as she came back down the stairs, shaking from her fears, before he helped form up teams to go find Hermione and to check out the Granger's home.

* * *

Hermione felt a moment of profound irony when she felt the Protean Charm activate on the medallion she wore under her shirt. She was lying on her back in an alley, bleeding to death and watching Sir Walter die.

Even with the incredibly immediate pain from the Sectumsempra working its way deeper into her body, her thoughts dwelled on the sadness that she would never know if he was actually a lord, or if he'd ever actually worked in the markets, or even if his name was really Walter. She cried as she heard the laughter of the Death Eaters and whimpered as they toyed with Walter's body, tossing it up in the air like a rag doll.

She felt the wind riffle her hair. It brought with it the scent of the moors and swept away the putrid stink of the rubbish skip she'd fallen next to. She'd closed her eyes and breathed deeply while she still could.

* * *

_She found herself on the moor. She wasn't wearing the old-fashioned, voluminous nightgown this time. She was wearing her jeans and jumper, but she'd apparently lost her winter coat._

_She smiled and looked around but saw she was alone. There was no one stalking across the moor towards her, instead, the sound of crying carried to her on the wind and she ran toward it. _

_In the distance she saw a boy and in the inscrutable way of dreams she was suddenly there at his side. He was small and painfully thin. His mismatched clothes were too big, as was the bruise on his face, barely seen through his over-long black hair. He sat with his arms wrapped tight around his knobby knees and she knelt down behind him and wrapped her own arms around him as well._

_"Find me." he said, in a voice barely even a whisper._

_"I can't. I'm lost myself now," she replied in a gentle voice. "But I will stay here with you as long as I am able, so you won't be so alone."_

_The boy sobbed as he twisted in her arms and hugged her tight. "Don't give up! We mustn't ever give in! You can't leave!" he wailed._

_"I don't think I can stay. I'm very sorry I couldn't find you. I was very close in the end."_

_They held each other and rocked, as the wind brought her the sound of a song, sung in a deep and melodic voice._

* * *

Yaxley looked upon his work and saw it was fun. The Mudblood was unconscious now. The blood on the ground was satisfying. She'd be dead soon. He knew she'd felt pain, just like her parents. It was a small revenge for what Mulcibur had gone through. But there would be more. The Dark Lord was strong now. There'd be no more of this skulking in the dark, biding their time. And this time around, there would be none of the subtle machinations as they tried to take over the government. Soon they would burst forth like a cleansing fire and wipe the world clean and remake it anew. Potter and his pathetic Order would be unable to stop them. The Dark Lord couldn't die.

He signaled to his men, these newer Death Eaters were eager, if not well-trained. Soon they would be. Soon they would be tempered blades, hardened to their mission. Right now they were just mindless brutes who took joy in the pain and chaos they inflicted. They had their uses.

Yaxley was about to cast the Morsmordre when a shadow fell across the pavement and drew his attention. He spun around and found his darkest fear. The terror that had been stalking him for over five years, had finally found him.

Snape. The man stood in a half crouch over the body of the Mudblood, growling like something sprung loose from the bowels of hell itself.

Yaxley shouted for his men to kill the demon but spun away with a crack and left them behind on the Dark Lord's orders. Yaxley was the last of the originals and therefore, had an obligation to survive.

* * *

_The singing was beautiful, haunting. It called to her but she resisted. She would stay with this young boy. He'd been alone for far too long. Finally the boy himself struggled out of her arms and pushed her away._

_"Find me," he said calmly, before he faded away._

_Hermione cried out to find herself alone. _

_The song grew louder and became more alluring. She relaxed into its embrace and felt herself whirled away._

* * *

She opened her eyes to a terrible pain. It spread across her chest and down into her gut, but with each note of the song Severus sang, as he crouched over her body, the pain lessened.

She heard the sound of running feet and a cry of "There he is!" from a voice she should know, but she was too far gone in shock to recognize it.

"My god! Look at the bodies!"

"Stop!"

"But he's killed a Muggle too!"

"We don't know that! It's far more likely that the Death Eaters killed him."

Neville. That was Neville. She found herself pleased that she'd recognized his voice. She gasped as another slice knit closed with a jolt of pain.

"Somebody stop him! He's hurting her!"

Severus spun away from her and let out a long, low hiss of anger. Hermione tried to soothe him. She lifted her arm and placed it gently on his thigh. He turned back to her and scooped her into his arms. She couldn't hold back the cry of pain.

She heard more shouting but then she was spun away into blackness.

When she woke next, she was in her own bed in her flat and Severus hung over her like a vulture. He was crouched on the bed and she was mildly annoyed that he still had his boots on.

"Hello," she said.

He didn't reply. Tears streamed from his expressionless face, but his eyes stared at her intently.

"I know how to find you now," she told him. "I wish you had come back last night."

His face twisted up and a strangled note of sadness clawed its way out of his throat.

He lifted up his hands, still covered in dried blood and gore, and gently placed them on either side of her face.

"The pieces hurt me." he said.

"I know," she said. "I know."

He leaned down and kissed her on the mouth. She was too bemused to react. It had happened too often in her dreams for it to be shocking. It was an unusual kiss. There was no tenderness, no passion, only cracked, dry lips touching hers. Then the warmth started to flow into her, and the light began to flare blindingly bright around them.

A moment if panic gripped her and she almost struggled, but it was far too late, and she needed to be willing. She embraced it instead. She opened her heart and made room for the broken pieces of Severus's soul.

She didn't know when she fainted.

When she woke again it was early evening. Severus was sitting in a chair next to the bed, staring blankly at the wall with dull, lifeless eyes. He gripped a wand in each hand. His, as well as her own. She crawled closer to him, slow from the pains, and lifted his hand, cradling it in both of hers. His fractured memories and emotions roiled around inside her, and she struggled to hold herself together. She had expected pain. He'd always said the shards hurt. Instead, they felt like warm treacle flowing through her veins.

Being a Horcrux would take a bit of getting used to. She took her wand back, curled up on the corner of the bed, and rested her head on his knee. She felt his hand slide into her hair before she fell asleep again.

* * *

_She was on the moor again, only this time, she could see him ahead of her in the distance. She started walking towards him, watching him run a shaking hand through his hair._

_When she drew closer, he spun around and stared at her in surprise._

_"Lily! Am I dead?"_

_Surprise turned to anger and suspicion and he drew himself up to his full height._

_"Miss Granger? What are you doing here?"_

_"I'm trying to find you," she answered._

_He looked around. His shoulders sagged as confusion swept across his features._

_"How long have I been lost?"_

_"Five years."_

_"Why you?"_

_"I was the third choice."_

_He tilted his head, as if he heard a melody that was only slightly familiar._

_"Is this a dream?" _

_"Yes."_

_He looked around again and then drew his cloak in tight around him._

_"I killed Albus," he said in a dry voice._

_"You did. He wanted you to, didn't he?"_

_"Yes."_

_"Why?"_

_"For Draco… For Potter… Always for Potter."_

_"Because of Lily."_

_"Yes."_

_"Because you still love her."_

_"Always." _

_Hermione felt a mix of emotions at this. He hadn't completely lost love—that was a very good sign—but his love was for a woman dead nearly a quarter of a century._

_Because he looked so small and sad, and because it had become a ritual of sorts, she closed the last few feet and lifted up on her toes, so she could take his face in her hands. He looked at her in confusion as she leaned forward slowly and placed a chaste kiss on his lips. He froze under her hands and she smiled sadly and pulled away, but he surprised her and wrapped his arms around her and pressed his lips to hers in a needy, desperate kiss._

_He pulled back and looked at her with profound confusion on his face._

_"You're not Lily," he said._

_"No."_

_"This is a dream." _

_"Yes."_

_"Have I dreamt of you before?"_

_"Yes."_

_"Why do I feel so safe with you?"_

_"Because you've given me pieces of your soul to watch over."_

_He blinked rapidly several times and then seemed to come to some decision. He pulled her back in close and brought his head down slowly, his eyes looked deeply into hers, seeking a sign that his advances were unwelcome. He found none, as his lips lightly brushed at hers again. His body was strung so tight that she kissed him back softly, gently, so as to not startle him. _

_He kissed her with slow, progressively more exploratory, kisses, his eyes always open and looking at her, not trusting. A hand slid up her back and cradled her neck and he stopped as if to see what she might think of this. She pressed her hands tighter against his sides, but still made no sudden moves. Satisfied with her reaction he went back to kissing her. His lips were soft, warm and agile as they caressed hers. She struggled not to let her own eyes flutter closed, afraid the moment might end if she let them. She felt her heart pounding and the blood rushing in her ears as he nibbled at her lip and then stroked it with his tongue. Again he stopped, staring intently into her eyes and a small, frustrated cry escaped her. His eyes sparked with amusement and he raised one brow, before pulling her in tight and kissing her deeply. His tongue searched hers out and when they met, she moaned._

_As if this was a sign he had been waiting for, he closed his eyes and pulled her hard against him. She stretched her arms around him and dug her fingers into the folds of his cloak as she let go of her own passion and kissed him back just as fiercely. Her body was on fire with need and he stroked his hands down her back and pulled her hips against his hard cock. The dream shifted and they were naked. She rubbed herself against him, as her body responded to the sound of his harsh breathing. He pulled her legs apart with strong hands and entered her, and she realized she was lying on the ground with him looming over her. He grunted on top of her and she felt powerful. His crooked teeth were clenched tight and his face was scrunched up with pleasure as he surged deep inside her. She wrapped her legs around his hips and urged him on as he pumped himself in and out of her, filling her, stretching her. He opened his eyes and looked down on her with a face that belonged on either a demon or a god._

_"This is a dream?" he shouted as he pounded into her._

_"Yes," she replied between gasps._

_"Have I fucked you before in my dreams, Granger?"_

_"No," she said, sadly confident it was the truth._

_"Then I've been a fool," he declared as his lips descended on hers and seemed to pull the pleasure from her._

_She felt herself hovering just at the peak and then with one last glorious thrust, she moaned as her release tore through her._

* * *

Hermione woke up in the middle of an orgasm. Awareness warped the intensity and she felt horribly self-conscious when she realized she was still lying against Professor Snape's leg. The last wave of pleasure died quickly as her aches and pains made their presence known. Her head started to throb instead. She stiffly pushed herself up and tried to use her wand to flick on the lights. The candles next to her bed lit, but several light bulbs popped.

She sighed and looked down at her professor, sitting there, dead-eyed with a spreading dampness on the crotch of his blood-covered trousers—a mortifying piece of evidence, if one had still been needed, to prove their connection.

She suddenly felt like she'd molested him. She was humiliated for both of them and was glad he was in this state, so he wouldn't wake up and realize what he had done, and with whom. There was no way he would have enjoyed that had he been in his right mind.

She dragged her hand through her matted hair and looked around.

"Come on, Professor, let's get you in the bath."

* * *

o.O

You know...


	10. The Third Choice

AN: Okay, people, hold onto your hats, we're picking up the pace. I gotta get this puppy off my comp...

* * *

Harry thanked Kreature as he brought another pot of tea. It was almost midnight, but most of the Order was still at his house.

The day had been hellish. It had taken hours for the two teams to deal with the Muggles who'd witnessed the Granger house burn and seen a man raise his arms and miraculously tear off the side of the house to rescue them. The witnesses that saw the nightmarish attack in the alley had been even worse off. Snape had ripped the Death Eaters, limb from limb in a shockingly brutal display that far outstripped his other killings.

Remus had put forth the idea that Snape might just have taken the attack on Hermione a bit personal, but from what Harry remembered of his medical file, Snape wouldn't have had the mental faculties to think in such terms. To him, the murders showed a pattern for an increasing disregard for the victim's humanity.

There'd been no sign of Snape or Hermione since. They had no idea if she was alive, or if she'd died from her injuries and now Snape was adrift.

Hermione's parents had recovered quickly once Molly had repaired the damage to their lungs, eyes and sinuses. They sat huddled together in the corner with Molly and Minerva. Crookshanks couldn't be moved from their side. He'd given the occasional person that ventured too close a hiss to let them know he was displeased. Molly and Minerva had ignored the half-kneazle and Crooks had dismissed them after a soothing rub from Helen Granger so he could concentrate on any other possible intruders into his territory.

Everyone was waiting. Waiting for some sign that Hermione was alive.

The Grangers had been reticent at first but eventually became more forthcoming with the story of how Snape had saved Hermione again, the same day he'd given her a Death Eater for a pet rock. They'd explained the best they could their irrational acceptance of the man into their home and as much about his behavior and they could put into words.

Ron muttered again about how his theory had to be right, and Ginny repeated what Hermione had said about her belief that Snape had made a Horcrux to store the broken pieces of his soul. _That_ had caused an uproar.

Ginny had gone upstairs to clean up the extra rooms on the third floor that they hadn't gotten around to renovating yet. Whatever the fate of their daughter, Mr. and Mrs. Granger were now homeless and needed a place to stay.

Harry felt the wards chime and heard the newly restored front door open. People had been coming and going all day, so he didn't think anything of it, until he saw Crookshanks jump off Mrs. Granger's lap and give a trill as he padded out of the room.

Harry stood up and faced the doorway just as Hermione appeared.

"I need your word, Harry. No one is to touch him unless I say so," she said, gripping her wand in her hand. She looked terrible. She'd obviously showered and changed, but her skin was translucent from blood loss and her face was lined with pain. Helen and John Granger ran across the room to their daughter and she held out her free arm to hug her mother, but kept her wand arm in the ready position. Mrs. Granger darted out of sight, audibly fussing over the man Harry knew was just around the corner. Mr. Granger turned and stood behind his daughter looking as fierce as any father whose daughter almost died.

"Give your word, mate," Ron said behind him. "Trust her."

"Don't," Mundungus Fletcher said, standing up and moving towards the Floo. "Snape is too dangerous and she's proven herself unreliable with her secrets. You can't take a chance with the safety of the entire Order."

"Mr. Fletcher has a valid point," said McGonagall sadly.

Harry looked around the room and saw confusion. He wished Kingsley was here but he, Neville and Tonks were still putting out fires at the Ministry. He went with his gut.

"Done. You have my word," he said.

Hermione sagged and her father gathered her into his arms and hugged her before walking with her into the room.

"You won't regret this Harry, you're doing the right thing," she said. Her mother came fussing up, and Molly hurried over as well. Hermione waved them off and called, "Snape, come here."

Everyone except the three Grangers drew back, as they heard the click of boots out in the hall.

Harry wasn't the only one that tried to suck the air out of the room as the man who murdered Dumbledore filled the doorway. Harry shuddered as he looked into the man's eyes. They were dead. Snape looked a bit worse for wear; he was scratched and bruised from his battle this morning, and his skin had a slightly waxy pallor, but it was the eyes that twisted in Harry's gut. He'd seen them before, that night on the tower, and it had been years since he'd looked that closely at his own memories to see it again.

Snape's eyes hurt to look at. It was as if one could instinctively tell the soul behind them was damaged beyond repair. Harry had no idea what Hermione thought she could do for the man, he looked beyond all hope.

The sound of the Floo activating startled Harry; the sight of Snape's eyes igniting into total rage terrified him. Harry brought his wand up but froze, remembering his promise to Hermione.

Snape surged past him like a black blur as Hermione screamed, "Don't kill!"

Harry twisted his head around to see Snape snatch Fletcher out of the Floo and sever his arm with a slicing hex. Everyone had their wands out and aimed at him, but no one knew what to do. Fletcher fell to the floor shrieking as they all just stood, frozen in shock as Snape pulled back the sleeve of the arm he still held and walked over and shoved it in Harry's face.

"I didn't k-kill." he said with finality.

"Thank you, Severus," Hermione responded in a shaky voice.

Harry looked down at the arm. The sleeve was pulled down over the hand, revealing the Dark Mark.

Ron and Remus broke out of their trances first. Ron stunned Fletcher, and Remus sealed the wound and tied him up before walking over and taking the arm away from Snape.

"Oh, Sweet Mother," Molly said, "he must have been the one that—"

"Don't say it!" Hermione shouted. She nodded towards Snape, who had walked back over to her and resumed his torpid stance and his flat-eyed stare. "He hears and he will seek revenge. Even I wouldn't be able to stop him." Everyone nodded their understanding. "It's best if we limit what we say. He follows almost any order given in the right tone of voice. Even if it is not directed at him. A wrong word and we could have a disaster."

Fred walked a few steps closer, before he stopped and stared at Snape. "He looks like a…"

"…zombie," finished George.

Minerva walked over to Snape and looked him in the eyes. "Oh, Severus. What happened to you?" she said for them all.

"He did. He's what happened," said Hermione, pointing at Dumbledore's sleeping portrait. "His soul shattered when he killed his mentor. We just don't know why." Hermione ran her eyes over the professor as if inspecting him for damage. "I did find one thing out this evening." She look up at Snape. "Severus, point to the Dark Lord's closest Horcrux."

Snape's eyes seemed to spark with life long enough for him to lift his arm and point directly at Harry. Harry felt his blood run cold.

"Me?" he asked in a small voice, as Ginny rushed over to his side.

"Not you, your scar. The Dark Lord didn't intend it and wasn't aware of it until after you started at school. Dumbledore was right when he said Tom Riddle left some of his power with you. He either didn't know, or didn't bother to tell you, exactly how. You have a piece of his soul trapped in your scar. That's why you've always been able to sense each other's thoughts."

"How do we get it out," asked Ginny.

"I'm working on that," Hermione answered.

"What about Snape's soul," Ginny asked. "You said he couldn't kill again without ruining his chances to be saved, but he did. What happens to him now?"

"He found a workaround, trust me. I'll explain more later. However, if I'm going to restore him, I need Dumbledore's wand, and I need it soon."

"_Did_ he turn it into a Horcrux?" asked Harry.

"Yes. He did. I need to break it to restore Snape's soul to him."

"Then we have a problem, Hermione," said Ron. "It's the Elder Wand. We can't just give it to you."

"Then we have a _serious_ problem. If you don't give it to me within the next eighteen hours, then Professor Snape and I will die."

"What? _Why? _What are you talking about?" Harry's voice carried over the rest of the exclamations. Mr. and Mrs. Granger were shouting the most.

"You're not the only living Horcrux in the room, Harry," she replied quietly.

"_That_ was the workaround?" asked Ginny, as voices raised in anger all around the room. "He turned _you_ into a Horcrux? What the hell have you got yourself into, Hermione?"

Harry looked around and saw people starting to crowd in as they all yelled their disapproval. He turned towards Snape when he heard him starting to emit an angry sound. The man's eyes were alive again and glittering with imminent death.

"Hermione, you have to see you're in way over your head," Remus said angrily.

Snape grabbed Hermione and pulled her under his arm until she was partially hidden by his robes, while his wand tracked Remus. John Granger pulled his wife back until they were behind Snape as well. It was obvious who they bet their money on.

"Stop!" shouted Harry. "Back off! Everyone settle down. Do you really think it's a smart idea to verbally attack Hermione, considering who her bodyguard is?"

"He had no choice!" Hermione shouted, as she tried to pull Snape's arm back down with both of hers. "It hurt him. Can't you see? It was either die, or become just as evil as the Dark Lord himself." She slid out from under his arm and looked at her protector. "I was the third choice. If he could store his soul until I found a way to fix him, then he could still be of use. He didn't plan on making me a Horcrux, but he _did_ always plan on having me save him, because of that paper I wrote. He bet his life that I would figure out what was going on somehow. He used Soul Magic to anchor himself to me until I did." She waved her hand in frustration. "But I couldn't think clearly with him locked onto me, and I didn't ever read his comments until a few months ago."

Snape's arm lowered, and his gaze shifted from frenetically tracking everyone in the room, to staring directly at Hermione with a focus so intense it made Harry's hair stand up.

"Find me, Miss Granger," he said.

Minerva let out a gasp and took a step towards him but Arthur held her back.

"I will," she said softly. She looked over at the portrait on the mantle. "Tell me why you always protected Harry Potter," asked Hermione.

"For Lily," he replied. "Always."

Harry turned quickly and saw Dumbledore's portrait jerk as if poked, as everyone started to cry out and push forward. He lifted his head and blinked several times and looked around before his eyes settled on McGonagall.

"Minerva! How nice to see you." He looked around and then his face clouded with confusion. "Why am I here? What happened? Harry? You look so grown up, my boy. Something's gone wrong hasn't it?" His eyes looked out over the crowd. "Severus, did you _fail_?"

There was a collective gasp in the room and a moment of silence followed as everyone turned and looked at Professor Snape. Hermione was trying to rub his cheek as he rocked back and forth emitting a terrible hissing moan while tears ran down his face. Mrs. Granger had her arm around him also, and was murmuring consoling words while shooting daggers at the portrait. Even the cat seemed as if it was ready to pounce on whoever came near.

"What was he supposed to do, sir?" asked Harry. "In which way could he have failed you?"

"He was supposed to take over the school when I died," Dumbledore replied. "He was supposed to stay undercover. But if I'm only waking now, something went dreadfully wrong."

"I think it's safe to say something went dreadfully wrong," said Harry.

"What's wrong with him?" asked the portrait.

"You are!" screamed Hermione. "You're what's wrong with him! You set him up to kill you, but he'd never murdered anyone before!"

"But it wasn't murder," said Dumbledore.

"Oh, but it was, Albus," said Minerva. "His soul shattered. Severus has been insane these five long years."

Dumbledore looked at the man, rocking slowing back and forth while staring at the carpet in tears.

"Oh, Severus, it was supposed to be done with love, my boy."

"It wasn't," Hermione said. "I saw his eyes. How could you think he could kill someone he loved after what happened to Lily? No. He's an Occlumens. Of course he hid his feelings behind a wall. He killed you in anger, because it was the only way he could, and it broke him. Whatever clever plans you had, Dumbledore, they are well and truly dust these five years."

She turned to Ginny, and in a tired voice said. "May we spend the night?"

"Of course, I have rooms made up already. Well, I wasn't expecting the Professor, but we can squeeze him in on the fourth floor."

"Don't bother, if you have something I can transfigure into a bed he can sleep in the same room with me. I'd prefer to keep him close." She turned and looked at Harry. "I need that wand, Harry. I'm running out of time. All the shards have to be integrated within twenty-four hours into a living host. After that, nothing will make them mesh again, and we will both start to die unless Snape embraces the evil, and he won't do that. His whole purpose is to serve you. He's been trying to buy you time to come up with a new way to kill the Dark Lord. He deserves his soul back." Hermione turned and with a quiet order led a small parade out of the room.

Harry turned back to Dumbledore. "It seems we have a lot of talking to do."

"Indeed, my boy. But if things have gone as you say, then I'm afraid all I am is counsel. Miss Granger is right. My plans are so much dust."

Harry felt his heart break, as he pulled out his medallion and sent a message to Kingsley to hurry back.

* * *

Ginny came back with some much needed medicine as Hermione was pulling the blankets over Snape's shoulders.

"Here's some potions for you. Blood Replenisher, Healing, Vitamin, and I didn't know if you needed a Bone. I wasn't sure how deep the Sectumsempra went. I got two of each if you think he needs some as well."

"Thanks, Gin. He just needs sleep. I can feel how tired he is."

"What else can you feel? What's it like?" Hermione saw her friend's curiosity had a purpose.

"It's not like Harry. Harry's Horcrux is confined to his scar. It just leaks and overlaps. I took Snape's soul willingly. It's tucked in next to mine and it feels… I don't know how to describe it. It feels like that feeling you get when you see an old friend after a long time. You feel warm inside."

"What do you think he'll do if you do save him and he wakes up?"

"I have no idea."

"You think he'll remember?"

"I suspect it will all just seem like a dream, hazy and slowly fading as he becomes more lucid. At least I hope so. Would you want him to remember the last five years?"

Ginny looked back at Snape and slowly shook her head. "I'm not sure he should remember the last thirty years." She wrapped her arms around herself. "He looks so peaceful when he sleeps. I never thought I would see that. How bizarre is life?"

"Tell me about it. People always poked fun at me for treating each essay I wrote like my life depended on it. Who knew that would literally be true one day?"

"It's actually somewhat amusing when you put it like that."

Hermione snorted. "Let's just hope that if I can fix him, he wakes up with a sense of humor."

"I wouldn't hold my breath."

"I may not have to if they don't give me that wand tomorrow."

"They will. They just didn't understand the whole picture before."

"I hope so." She looked over at the man sleeping in the bed. "For both our sakes."

Ginny left with a hug and Hermione drank several of the potions, leaving the rest on the table by the bed to give to Severus in the morning. She washed them down with a large glass of water and then changed into the oversized t-shirt Ginny had provided for sleepwear. She walked back over to make sure her professor was settled and impulsively leaned down and kissed his forehead.

She slipped into her own bed and blew out the candle, feeling slightly lonely that Crooks had seemed to decide he needed to watch over her parents. She tossed and turned and punched pillows for a while before she felt sleep overtake her.

* * *

_She looked around the moor and closed her eyes as the gentle breeze caressed her face with its warmth. She sat down and tucked her voluminous nightgown under her, lifting her face to the sun._

_"Not much longer," she said._

_"I know," he answered. _

_She opened her eyes and looked over at him where he sat against a rock with his knees up, reading a book. He looked young, fourth or fifth year, by his school robes._

_"Will you remember this?"_

_"My soul will remember."_

_"What were the other two choices?"_

_He cringed and looked away from her. _

_"I died a failure on the floor of the shrieking shack. I never found the boy in the battle to give him Dumbledore's final instructions."_

_"And the other?"_

_His eyes filled with sadness and he stood and came over to her. He got younger as he walked until he was a mere boy of five or six years of age standing before her digging his toe into the ground. She opened her arms and he folded down and tucked himself next to her heart._

_"I embraced him. I ordered your death and lived forever."_

_"You saw two futures?"_

_"Yes."_

_"And created your own."_

_"Yes."_

_"You are a remarkable man, Severus."_

_"The pieces were hurting me."_

_"You were very strong, to carry those pieces for days until you found me. Do they hurt you still?"_

_"No. You feel warm."_

_"So do you," she said._

_They stayed there, her arms wrapped tight around the little boy as he snuggled close to her, until she drifted into a deeper sleep._

* * *

Hermione woke up and felt arms around her. His body was a long warmth pressed up against her as he spooned her. She heard his deep, slow breaths and knew he was sound asleep. She snuggled deeper into his embrace and reveled in the feeling of being held, until she heard the sounds of people beginning to move about the house.

She slipped out from under his arms and dressed, before heading out the door to find the bathroom.

When she came back into the room, he was sitting in his underwear on the end of the bed staring blankly at the wall.

"Time to get dressed, Severus."

She cast a freshening charm on his clothes and laid them out on his bed as he rose and walked over to join her. There was a knock on the door and she opened it to see her mother standing there with a tray of food and a worried expression.

"Mum?"

She took the tray and set it on the chest.

"I thought it might be better if he ate in private. It seems everyone is downstairs, and there's a bit of an uproar about how to deal with the two of you."

"Oh. Thank you, I think eating up here sounds like a good idea," she said, snatching Severus's sock and flipping it right side out before handing it back to him.

"Hermione, is there something you want to tell me?"

"There's probably a million things I want to tell you. What do you want to hear first?"

"Well, let's start with how you ended up with Severus's soul. And why Molly thinks that you are both probably bound for life now."

Hermione looked at her mother and winced. "Yeah, that's probably the best place to start."

Her mother helped Severus fix the buttons on his shirt when he got them out of alignment, while Hermione poured tea and explained about how she ended up with the broken pieces of Snape's soul.

"So it has a lot of similarities to a Wizarding marriage, where you link your souls, but it is not the same. We are bound. There's no escaping that."

"For life?" her mother asked.

"Um, yeah. Basically."

"Even if you give him all the pieces of his soul back together?"

"Yes."

"This was his plan when you were just a kid?"

"No. I'm pretty sure this wasn't the plan until he lost the Elder Wand. He went for days with the pain until he found me again. He couldn't wait any longer. It's still a good plan. Being bound isn't the end of the world."

"Hermione."

"It's not that big a deal! We could simply ignore each other and love other people. We just wouldn't be able to take any Wizarding vows with someone else. And we'll have to stay fairly close, geographically, too far apart would be unhealthy. And, well, whenonediestheotherwilltoo."

"Excuse me?"

Hermione sighed.

"When one dies, the other will too."

"Hermione, he's twice your age. You do realize that you've managed to shave, what, twenty-five years off your life?"

"Actually, only nineteen. Yes, I realize I now will only get to live about fifty years longer than you as opposed to seventy."

"Don't get smart with me; you know damned well that it's more complicated than that. If you can't fix him, you've tied yourself to a man that you have to shave every day, and wipe his arse and—"

"He can wipe his own arse, you know that. And what's the big deal? _You _were the one that wanted me to bring someone home."

"Not a mass murderer! Good gods, it sounds like a sitcom!"

"I couldn't let him die!"

"I know! I _get _that, but for the love of God, Hermione, look at him!"

Hermione turned her head and saw him standing and staring at the wall, waiting for someone to tell him he could eat.

She poured him some tea and handed the cup to him. "Drink your tea, Severus."

"I'm sorry, dear. I know it's spilled milk. I'm just upset. What I'm really worried about is what happens when you _do_ save him? I have no doubt you will find a way. What happens if he snaps out of this state he's in, and he's not happy about being bonded to you? What if he has no memory of all this?"

"He says his soul will remember."

"When did he say this?"

Hermione screwed up her face, wishing she had kept her mouth shut.

"In our dream last night. We talk in our dreams."

"Oh. Right. Well that makes everything all better doesn't it? Chatting in your sleep. Why the hell didn't I think of that? Your father and I could have breezed through all our major issues if we'd only realized the benefit of sleeping through the important parts of a relationship. Bloody hell, Hermione. Have you any idea how ludicrous this all sounds? You're stuck for life to a man who can't provide for you, possibly might not even like you, when you do save him, and most likely will end up in prison based on what's being debated downstairs!"

"_I know! _I _know_ all that! I don't give a damn!" Hermione stared at her mother in horror and then turned towards the man standing in front of a tray of food, holding an empty teacup while his stomach gurgled. She dragged a shaking hand through her hair. "I have his soul inside of me, Mum. It's the most incredible thing. I don't care what they are saying downstairs. I will protect him, and I will save him, and it doesn't make a difference if he doesn't even thank me. I will always know what his soul feels like, and I'll know, on some level, he will remember what mine feels like as well."

Her mother closed her eyes, as she walked over and pulled her into a hug.

"How hard have you fallen, Hermione?"

Hermione let out a small sob that sounded like a squeak. "Pretty hard. What you can't see is incredible."

"Then that's all I needed to hear, isn't it?"

The two women broke apart and Mrs. Granger made up a quick plate of eggs and toast, held it out to her daughter to re-warm and then handed it to Snape.

"Welcome to the family, Professor. Eat."

* * *

Review, or no happy ending!

(runs off to write a dreadfully tragic back-up ending)


	11. The Will to Live

AN: Pirouettes by to drop off chap

* * *

Kingsley, Minerva, Harry, Ron and Remus were in the sitting room talking with Dumbledore's portrait when Hermione ventured down to listen to the debate. She'd left Severus upstairs in their bedroom.

"How are you feeling?" asked Ron.

"Much better, thank you."

"You look better," added Harry, giving her a hug. "You would have to work pretty hard to look worse than you did when I saw you in that alley."

"I was pretty close to the end there. I wouldn't have lived if Severus hadn't come when he did."

An awkward silence filled the room after that comment.

"So, I hear you're going to send him to prison?" she said.

"Most likely not," said Kingsley. "If you can restore his sanity, then we could hardly prosecute him for what he did when he was insane. There's precedent. We don't convict those that were under an Imperius, so I don't see too much trouble there. And his victims weren't exactly sympathetic, so that will help sway opinion. The court will recognize the difference between a cursed vigilante, and a random mass-murderer. Obviously, the matter of the Headmaster's death is not an issue, we have his own word on that."

"Now we just need to figure out if he would really want to be saved," Dumbledore said

Hermione looked over at the portrait in shock. Dumbledore raised a hand to forestall her angry retort.

"I'm not being callous, Miss Granger. I'm just not sure it would be kind to bring him back. I am more than capable of seeing how poorly he has been used, but I have known Severus since he was a lad, and the man I know wouldn't want to live, knowing what he has done these last years. The decision ultimately lies with all of you, but think hard before you make a decision he might not be happy with. Severus damaged his heart when he inadvertently caused the death of the only woman he ever loved. He broke his soul ending my pain. What do you think it will do to him to find out just how many people he's killed in such a brutal manner? What do you think it will do to him when he realizes the price he made _you_ pay, Miss Granger?"

Hermione's eyes filled with tears. She didn't have an answer to that.

"You have a choice before you. Let him go, while he's incapable of understanding what's happening to him, or bring him back and possibly destroy him all over again."

"But he does understand what's happening!" she said.

"Does he? I've been informed that the medical records showed otherwise."

"That's true, Hermione," Kingsley said gently. "Harry and I went over the medical reports with a team at St. Mungo's. Snape isn't capable of cognitive thought, just impulse, like the need to save you and your parents, and the need to avenge Draco. He's too far gone. Even if you break the wand and absorb more of his soul, I don't see how he can be fixed. I think the knowledge of what he's done will just break him again."

"He's aware," she said. "He knows what's happening and he wants to be saved."

"Can you prove that?" said Dumbledore. "If you can, that makes all the difference in the world. But I fear he fixated on you five years ago and has just been continuing the impulse without understanding why. I fear he's only an echo."

"I have to agree, Miss Granger," said McGonagall. "I don't see how Severus could reconcile what he's done."

Hermione looked at Harry and Ron. "Do you think I should let him die as well?"

"No," Ron replied. "I think he's shown too much creative thinking. I don't buy it."

"Harry?"

"I'm undecided. I read those hospital reports. I have a hard time believing he can even walk, never mind think, but I feel like I should support you, because you're the one that feels the connection."

She looked at Remus. "I don't have an opinion," he answered.

"I don't believe you," she replied.

Remus looked down at the carpet. "It is my hope that a man can do terrible things and still find the strength to go on if he knows he can be forgiven." He looked over his shoulder at Dumbledore's portrait with something akin to challenge in his eyes. "I don't think I'm neutral enough to have a say."

Hermione turned back to the portrait. "You realize you are talking about me dying as well?"

"Not at all, Hermione," Dumbledore said. "The ritual you want to carry out can be reversed. You can break the wand and absorb the pieces of his soul, or you can send the pieces you already carry into the wand. Severus will fade in time. Making you a Horcrux as well meant they can't merge again in the wand, only coexist, and as you said, he will not embrace the evil in order to survive. His soul will dissipate without evil to anchor it once his body dies. In the end, he will have a peaceful death, and the Elder Wand might still be useful."

Hermione dashed the tears out of her eyes. "You are asking me to kill him. What do you think will happen to _my_ soul?"

"Hermione, if it is done with love it won't hurt you." Dumbledore said gently.

"You're wrong," she hissed.

A shout and a clatter on the stairs made them all turn to the doorway.

"Oi! Hermione! Your Zombie's gone mental and is ripping apart one of the bedrooms!" shouted George. "You need to see if you can put a leash on him!"

Hermione took off running. She followed George up the stairs and heard the sound of feet behind her. When she got to the doorway of the spare bedroom next to the library, she stopped.

"Severus! What are you doing? Stop!"

"Oh, _hell_!" yelled Harry, as he turned and ran into the room next door.

"You only warded the front of it, didn't you?" yelled Ron as he ran after him.

Hermione ran over to where Snape was blasting through the wall with his wand. The plaster and lathing behind it were now gone, revealing a piece of metal that was even now, buckling and bending under the spell. As she watched in fascination, he flicked his wand one last time and tore away the heavy metal sheeting, revealing a small chamber. Snape reached in and plucked out the Elder Wand just as the opposite end whipped open and revealed the cursing face of Harry, staring into his now useless safe.

Severus turned to her and held out the wand. His eyes were alert and full of purpose, but they looked right past her and stared down Kingsley, Remus and the twins. His own wand was held in the ready position.

Hermione took the wand from him and his hand closed around her arm, just above the elbow and pulled her close to him.

"I would say that this man doesn't want to go gentle into that good night," quipped Remus, as he backed away.

"Agreed," said Kingsley. "He obviously understands what _she_ heard. Harry?" he turned to Harry and Ron as they reentered the bedroom.

"It would seem that the question of whether or not to give her the Elder Wand is a moot point. I suspect none of us would live through taking it away again. I'm good with it," he said, sounding relieved. "Ron?"

"Yup. It's out of our hands, innit? Who's gonna tell Dumbledore?"

"I will," said Remus.

Snape's firm grip on her arm didn't relax until most of them trooped out of the bedroom and left her alone with just Harry and Ron.

"So what do you need?" Harry asked.

"A silver knife. A Potions knife will do."

"Ginny has one. I'll get it. Are you going to do it now?"

"Yes," she answered. "Best not to wait."

"Where do you want to do this?"

"I think in my room. According to the Sprague text, it's physically debilitating and I'll probably sleep for a while afterwards."

"Is it dangerous?" Harry asked.

"Only a little," she lied.

"What about him?" asked Ron. "Do you need someone to watch over him while you sleep?"

"I don't think so. I'll ward the doors so I can't be disturbed during the procedure, but it he wanders off after I've fallen asleep, my parents know how to handle him. They should be back from looking at safe houses with your dad soon. I suspect he will just stay near me. I'll go set up."

The three of them left the room, Harry and Ron headed downstairs and Hermione turned to Snape, looking as oblivious and lost as ever, and bade him to follow her up the stairs.

She had Snape sit on the end of her bed as she shoved all the furniture in the room to the walls and cast a cushioning charm on the floor. She set the bedside table near the center, but not too close. There was a good chance she would lose consciousness and didn't want to injure herself.

Harry and Ron appeared with the knife and a quick report on how Dumbledore agreed he'd underestimated the situation, and his sincere wishes for a favorable outcome.

"I don't really see how the wand could be of use anyway," Harry said. "Sure, it's an important item, but the way I see it, Draco had mastery of it. He's the one that disarmed Dumbledore. And we don't know who actually killed Draco."

"Actually, if you look long and hard at the original plan, Harry," Ron put in, "you probably were supposed to defeat Snape to gain mastery from him."

Harry turned and looked over at their former teacher. "Oh, sure. No problem," he said with sarcasm.

"I don't think Dumbledore factored in Snape being insane when you fought him, Harry," Hermione said. "He's so much stronger than us now because he has no moral restraint. He does what needs to be done according to his internal logic and there is nothing to stop him from using everything in him to do it. Rational people don't function that way. Only Severus and the Dark Lord. Dueling Snape might have been decent training for you if we could have found a way to make it work."

"Is it possible?" asked Ron.

Hermione shook her head. "With the exception of going after Death Eaters, he doesn't seem to fight unless there's a serious threat." She waved a hand in his direction. "And then it is always to incapacitate as fast as possible. He's unbelievably brutal, even when he intends to be lenient. You saw what he did to Mundungus Fletcher. He wanted you to see his arm, so he took the man's arm off. If we could convince him to duel with us for training, without killing us, we'd spend all our time re-growing bones."

"Do you think Dumbledore has a point? Snape was always a nasty bastard, but how do you think he will react to finding out he's a brutal killer?"

"He already knows Ron. It's why his soul keeps shattering."

"But why does he keep killing? He doesn't have to. He never did."

"Because he's trapped in a twisted version of his last set of instructions. He thinks he must do murder to help you." She turned to Harry. "He's doing it for you. He's trying to make your job easier by taking out the strongest opposition."

Harry swore and looked at the man. "Poor sod. Fix him Hermione. Do what you can."

She nodded to him and then herded them out the door.

"Let me gather his soul together first. Then I'll see about going in and finding him."

"You mean using Legilimency?"

"Yes, I've been studying up a bit, but didn't really know how until yesterday. His soul comes with memories and knowledge."

"Hermione, Legilimency on a man as insane as Snape is not safe."

"I'll be safe, Harry. He wants me to do this. I don't think there will be too much resistance."

"I hope you're right."

"Call if you need us," said Ron.

Hermione watched the two of them head towards the stairs and then closed and warded her door. She cast Silencing Spells and extra wards and then cleansed the knife and pulled Dumbledore's wand out of her pocket. It felt warm and soothing in her grasp. She could feel a harmonic resonance with Severus's soul inside. Harry had said the other Horcruxes always exuded evil, but this one was the opposite. Severus had chipped away more and more of what had made him good first and the best of it was bound in this wand. She placed it on the table before her and gripped the knife and turned to call Snape over.

He was already there. She startled when she saw him looming over her holding out his palm, staring at her intently. She took a breath and cut the meaty part of his palm and watched the blood well up. She dragged the knife across her own and then dropped it on the table and picked up the wand. She smeared the wand with her own blood and then added in Severus's until it was completely covered.

She set her shoulders and looked deep into his eyes as she gripped the wand in both hands and flexed. Nothing happened. She put more force into it, surprised that a wand to slim could be so tough. Again, nothing. She couldn't break it. She tried with all her strength and only managed to bend it. She tried breaking it over her knee and only managed to hurt herself.

"Well, this is just great, isn't it? C'mon you buggering stick, break!" She flicked a look up at Snape, half afraid to see him either scowling or laughing at her, but his eyes were back to being just as blank and heart-rending as always. "Don't just stand there, help me with this. It's your soul, you know!"

His eyes came to life and he reached out and placed his hands on top of hers. He snapped the wand with such force she thought he'd broken both her hands.

She had no time to worry about it. A blinding white light filled the room and with a cry of, "_Servonimus!_" she threw her arms wide and unleashed the wandless magic that would gather the escaping soul to her.

It was a battle. A wind kicked up and seemed to tear at her own soul, as she struggled against the powerful pull trying to claim the released soul. She closed her eyes and focused, shutting away the knowledge that if she failed, both of them would fall to the floor dead as the forces unleashed took all the souls involved. She felt his arms grab onto her shoulders and felt the strength that he let flow through his hands into her. With a shout she dug down deep into her own psyche and pulled. She knew it worked when she felt herself surrounded by an almost frisky, giddy warmth. It seemed to toss her about playfully until she grounded herself on the hands holding her and then it trickled inside, leaving her feeling almost bloated and incredibly tired as the bright light faded from in front of her eyelids.

She opened her eyes and saw the last remnants of what looked like ecstasy fade from Severus' face as it slid back into its usual blank state. Her knees started to buckle as she saw his eyes roll up. Her own vision started to turn black at the edges until it narrowed down to a point. She felt him slam against her and heard him hit the floor before she felt all the air forced out of her lungs when she hit. Then she knew no more.

* * *

_She stood on the wide empty moor, a small thing against the oppressive, vaulted sky filled with angry black clouds. A bitter wind lashed at her and the sleet and rain drove the cold into her bones. She spun in a circle, hoping to see a place to hide and saw him standing off in the distance. He raised a hand and beckoned to her and she lifted up the sodden skirt of her nightgown and ran towards him._

_The rain lifted as she moved and by the time she drew close enough to clearly see him, the sky had changed to a gloomy, sickly grey, dotted with abandoned chimneystacks. He turned and walked away from her and she hurried to catch up. He was a young man, about her age, with a smooth face, only just beginning to show a hint of the premature lines that stress had carved. His long hair hung lank and greasy down his cheeks in a way that hardly flattered his long, hooked nose. He darted his eyes towards her, seeming uncomfortable with her scrutiny. His shoulders hunched up and he scowled as he turned sharply and led her along an old towpath near a stagnant and refuse-choked canal. She followed him silently, her eyes darting around, trying to catch the people she could only see in the corners of her eyes. She was still cold and wet and she wrapped her arms around herself tightly and felt a sting in her palm. She lifted her hand and saw the blood flowing down her arm from a knife wound she was sure she should remember. She turned her palm and held it up to him and he looked at it and back up to her face._

_"I'm not the one. I'm just his duty," he said petulantly, as he stopped and pushed open a door. _

_She looked around at the littered alley that ran behind a row of terraced houses. Laundry lines ran back and forth over her head and she could hear the shouts of neighbors nearby but could see no one. She turned back to this younger Snape and followed him inside._

_She stood in a kitchen, yellowed paint reflected the dingy light from the filthy windows. A skinny woman, tall and unhealthy-looking scowled at the teenage boy sitting hunched over a book at the table. She opened her mouth to yell at the boy and a horrible buzzing filled Hermione's ears. She backed out of the kitchen into the sitting room and stopped when she saw the familiar boney and malnourished boy she had first seen on the moor when she had been dying. An ugly, hook-nosed man slapped him and he turned away for only a moment before looking back at the man and sneering. The man opened his mouth to shout, and again, the same horrible buzzing filled her ears._

_"Stop it!" she shouted, as the man raised his arm to strike again. _

_The boy turned his bruised face to her and nodded toward the stairway behind her._

_"Worry about yourself," he said. "I'm stubborn."_

_She turned and fled as the boy took another blow and found herself in another room. A messy little bedroom, filled with old and broken toys and bent and torn books. She heard the snuffle of tears and looked behind the door. She saw him again as he was at five or six years of age hunkered down on the floor behind the door with his skinny arms wrapped around his legs and his eyes staring at the wall behind her. She looked back over her shoulder and saw the shadows of a man and a woman arguing and saw the woman's head rock back on its neck from a slap. _

_She closed the door and the shadows ended. The boy looked up at her and smiled, his eyes too old for his face. _

_"Not me, I'm innocent," he said. _

_"Where is he?"_

_The boy got up from the floor and reached out and took her hand and pointed to the door._

_"He's in there. He's lost. If you save him, you will save us all," the boy said with preternatural calmness._

_Hermione looked back at the door she had just come through and felt her heart start to pound nervously._

_She looked down at the boy but he was gone, her palm ached where he'd held it. She reached out and pulled the door open and saw she was in the sitting room again. It had changed. Now it was full of shelves, stuffed full of books. It looked even more cramped and tiny. _

_He stood in the center of the room and looked out through the cloudy window. She walked up behind him and saw the moor through the dirty glass. The sun blazed down on the wild terrain and the wind tossed the grasses about playfully. The view beckoned._

_"Why am I here?" he asked. Her heart wrenched in her chest to hear the pained, confused voice._

_"You're trapped."_

_He swiveled his head and looked at her, his features revealing a myriad of thoughts as he took in her bare feet and the old-fashioned nightgown she always wore in these dreams._

_"Have you come to free me?"_

_"If I can. If not today, then I will try again tomorrow."_

_"Is this a dream?" His head darted back and he cocked it to the side. His eyes widened and he lifted a hand to her but didn't reach out. "You're not Lily."_

_"No. Lily is dead."_

_"And I am not?"_

_"No."_

_"Who are you?"_

_"I'm the third choice, Professor."_

_"Miss Granger?" His face clouded with confusion and then cleared. "Miss Granger," he breathed with relief. "The brightest witch of her age," he said with sadness, before his face dissolved into a sneer. "I knew you would find me. Always solving riddles, incapable of leaving things alone."_

_"I'm sorry it took so long."_

_"How long?"_

_"Five years."_

_His face fell and he looked back out the window._

_"I did it wrong."_

_"You did it the only way you thought was possible."_

_"I made a new way."_

_"I think you chose wisely."_

_"Not so, Miss Granger. I took all the choices. This is only one of them."_

_"Then somewhere out there you have died?"_

_He nodded and turned to her._

_"And somewhere else, so have you," he said._

_"I like this choice, Severus."_

_He turned to her, plainly affronted by her familiarity._

_"I'm not sure that I do. I've done such terrible things." He nodded at the window and she looked and saw him sever Bellatrix Lestrange's head from her body with a backhanded flick of his wand as he spun into a turn, cloak flaring wildly around him._

_"You did what you thought was right."_

_"For Potter… Always for Potter._

_"For Lily."_

_"Lily never loved me."_

_"I do," she blurted._

_He went pale as he turned and looked at her with shock and backed away._

_"No…! You're not … It was just a dream! It didn't happen; it was just another filthy dream!" He looked at her with disgust. "You're just a student, a child! This isn't real! It's just another sick lie! Get away from me! GET OUT!"_

_Hermione recoiled, overwhelmed with shame and rejection. She flailed around looking for a way to escape the humiliation. She grabbed the door and tore it open and raced out onto the moor. _

_She saw him ahead of her, the wind lifting his cloak as he raised a hand and beckoned to her. She looked over her shoulder and saw the bleak house with its dirty window recede into the distance. She turned back and raced to the man who was waiting for her with blood dripping off his hand._

_She reached out with her own bleeding hand and when he grasped it she felt herself filled with warmth._

_He pulled her to him and wrapped his arms around her._

_"He is not whole," he said. "He is missing so many pieces. You have met some of us."_

_"Which one are you?" she cried._

_He lifted up his bleeding hand. "I'm the one that found your soul. I'm the one that watched over you all these years."_

_He pulled her close and kissed her and she felt as if she grew lighter in his arms. She kissed him back with a ferociousness that almost frightened her, but he growled his acceptance and demanded more. He pulled her closer and rolled over until he was covering her with his body, one hand tearing at her clothes, pulling at the button on her jeans and snatching them off of her legs._

_"I love you, Hermione," he whispered._

_"Yes!" she said as she helped him open the placket on his trousers._

_"Remember me, Hermione."_

_"I don't understand," she cried. "How could I forget you?"_

_He thrust himself inside of her and she moaned. He took her with a fierce desperation and she welcomed it._

_"He will want you to forget, but I will be inside. Look for me inside." He lifted up on his outstretched arms and threw his head back. "Hermione…" he moaned. "You are my soul…"_

_She felt herself draw close to her release, surprised again by how much faster in happened in her dreams, and pulled at him as she met his thrusts with equal force._

_"I love you," she said, frightened at saying the words again. _

_His eyes opened and he looked down on her, and his face broke into a beautiful smile before dissolving into ecstasy as he spent himself inside of her. She shattered and clenched herself around him as he pulsed and shuddered with a long, low moan._

_He took a moment to catch his breath, dropping down and resting his head on hers and kissing her gently._

_"I will be inside, Hermione. Give him time, he's never known how to let go of the other."_

_"How did you?"_

_He looked deep into her eyes._

_"I found something I wanted more than a memory."_

_"Why could you do it, when he can't"_

_"I am his will to survive. I'm the one that made you the third choice."_

_"I don't think I could handle it if he rejects me."_

_He pulled her into his arms and wrapped her in his cloak. _

_"You have the best of him already, his innocence, his stubbornness, and his will to live."_

_"And his duty?"_

_"…is torn. Be patient, he _will _reject you, but we are so tired of being alone and your soul feels so beautiful."_

_He pulled her deeper into his embrace and laid his head down by hers, his lips caressed her ear as he whispered, "Sleep."_

* * *

Hermione woke up in his arms as her Cushioning Charm wore off and the cold of the hard floor seeped into her bones.

She was chilled and stiff and quite naked.

* * *

Did you know... The Star Spangled Banner was a poem set to a popular drinking song? My Daughter just learned that in history, not fifteen minutes ago. I can't hit that note sober... Even with a stick. What the hell kind of drunks did they have back then?

*ahem*

Review!


	12. Picking up the Pieces

**SERIOUS AN:** This chap comes with a warning. One short scene contains an attempted sexual assault. For those of you sensitive to such things, skip the boggart and move to the next bit of dialogue.

* * *

Hermione scrambled out of his arms and grabbed at her clothes, struggling into her knickers and jeans and crawling around on the floor to find the shirt, shoes and socks that had been flung in several different directions.

When she was dressed, she crawled back over to him and just stared. He looked so peaceful in his sleep, so gentle and innocent.

She remembered the youngest Snape she'd seen and wondered if the child was in control when he slept.

Her head felt like she was shaking off the effects of a Stupefy. Obviously their connection had been intensified enough to allow a part of him to gain mastery over the whole, if only for a short time.

She pushed and pulled until she got his trousers back up over his hips and got them closed and his belt rebuckled. He never stirred. She cast a new cushioning charm underneath him and grabbed a pillow off the bed and slid it under his head. When she was done, she leaned down and kissed his cheek. She needed to fix him. She needed to heal him and give him back his soul. She was also apparently going to need to think about birth control. Wouldn't _that _be fun to explain to the Order? She said a minor prayer to whoever was listening to not have to deal with one more complication in her life, before heading off to grab a shower and try to clear her mind of the sound of her own screaming.

* * *

"Eat your lunch, Severus," she said, as she put her plate before him. He reached out and lifted the sandwich with his elegant hand.

"Hey, he smells like shampoo!" said Fred as he came in the room. "I bet that's a first."

"What's it like, having to bathe him, Hermione?" asked George with a leering grin. "Does he put up a fight? Or does he smile a lot?"

Hermione scowled and turned on them, her gut clenching with embarrassment and anger. Snape dropped his food back onto the plate, stood up, and pulled his wand out and into the ready position, all in one motion.

Fred and George stepped back quickly and held up their hands, as Hermione took several quick, calming breaths.

"I've already warned you two about this sort of thing. He not only understands certain words, but he feels my emotions now. Getting my back up intentionally is not the way to live to see old age. If you can't restrain yourselves, then please, for all our sakes, stay the hell away from me."

The tension in the air was thick as Molly, Arthur and her parents walked in. Molly sized up the situation and ordered the twins out of the room. Helen placed a hand on Snape's shoulder and told him to sit and eat.

"We've found a good safe house, dear," her mother said.

"We've rescheduled all of our appointments and taken an indefinite leave from the clinic," added her father. "Russell Menninger and his partner are going to cover our patients." He took a deep breath. "I think it would be best if we move as soon as possible." He gave Snape a long look. "It's just too dangerous for him to stay here with so many people around."

"I'll have to agree," said Arthur. "You would think the boys would be more mature, but the fact is, Severus disturbs them. They're not the only ones, just the most likely to act on it. I think it would be best for you and Severus if you were more insulated against foolishness and random chance."

Hermione looked at Molly, who was smiling sadly.

"We've also done a bit of shopping," she said. "Your mother and I have got you some new things and picked up the new robes you ordered for Severus."

"Thank you, Molly. That's wonderful. One does get tired of casting Freshening Charms."

"Here," said Arthur, handing her a slip of paper with an address.

"You're the secret keeper?"

"Yes."

She closed her eyes and nodded. "I'll gather a few things. We might as well go now."

She rose up from the table and sighed when Severus dropped his sandwich again and stood up as well. "No, Severus. Stay here and eat. Stay with my mother." He didn't look at either her or her mother, just stared at the wall with his dead gaze. She walked to the kitchen door and shook her head when he followed.

"I'll wrap the sandwich up so you can take it with you," said Molly.

Hermione nodded and left to gather her few belongings with Severus following her every step of the way.

He'd been like this ever since she'd stepped out of the shower yesterday afternoon and found him standing there. He wouldn't leave her side. It made going to the bathroom more than a bit embarrassing and garnered a few strange looks.

Whatever had taken place between them yesterday had drawn him closer to her physically in more ways than one.

At bedtime, he'd undressed and laid down in his bed like usual, but when she'd shut out the lights, she'd heard him pushing away his blankets before she'd even reached her bed. He'd sunk down onto the bed next to her and wrapped himself around her like a cat before she'd heard his breathing deepen and felt his weight sag.

There had been no dreams, and when she'd woken, there hadn't been anything else either, a fact that she'd been incredibly relieved about.

She gathered up the few scrolls and one book, as well as the broken pieces of the Elder Wand and stuffed them into a pillow case while Severus loomed over her. She went to the library and took three texts that she thought might have information she could use and left a note to Harry and Ginny in case they went looking for them.

She headed back downstairs and found Ron waiting for them.

"I thought you might want to pack up your flat."

She nodded. "I need all my research notes."

"Exactly," he said, with a smile. "That's why Fred and George went over to take care of it for you. They felt bad for what happened earlier."

"But—"

"No, Hermione. It's not safe. Mum and Dad already took your parents and Crooks to the safe house. You need to go straight there. I'll go over and help Fred and George, just tell me if there's anything particular you want, or I'll just bring it all."

Hermione's temper flared. "Ron, I have to go over. I need—"

He cut her off and turned to Snape. "Do not let Hermione go to her flat. Fletcher told the Dark Lord where it was."

Snape's eyes flared with awareness and he turned his head and looked at her before looking back at Ron. He lifted his hand and wrapped his fingers around her arm, just above the elbow and then his eyes went flat again.

"I can't believe you, Ron!" she snapped.

"Believe it. I'll just go pack everything then, shall I?" He backed away from her and nodded to Snape, who didn't respond. He turned and walked out the front door and Hermione followed with Snape holding firmly to her arm.

She scowled as Ron Disapparated with a crack, and pulled her new address out of her pocket.

"The Granger's live at Oak Court, Brampton," she said with disgust. She went to put the address back into her pocket but Snape yanked on her arm and pulled her into his chest, before spinning them into blackness.

They arrived with a crack at an old millhouse nestled amongst the trees, none of them oak. Hermione snatched her arm away from Snape, who had gone still again, as Molly and her mother appeared in the doorway. The home was a jumble of buildings pasted together with parts ranging from ancient, to merely old as hell. Hermione knew that at any other time, she'd have been enchanted. Right now, she was having too good a sulk to care. She stalked across what had once been a carriage yard and was now an overgrown wilderness, towards the other women. Snape followed, half a step behind.

"Hello dear, you look out of sorts. Everything okay?"

"I'm fine. I just need space," she said this last while looking back over her shoulder to her six foot tall black shadow.

"We picked this place with that in mind, dear. Your father and I will take the west wing and we'll leave you and Severus the east. There are plenty of rooms to get lost in. You should be able to find some privacy. Your father and Arthur are making sure the plumbing is functional. Did you want to come in and finish eating lunch?"

"Sure," she said, knowing she sounded like a petulant child.

Her mother gave her a look that clearly said she needed to stop pushing her luck. As the women headed inside, Hermione felt her medallion grow warm under her shirt, and as she dug under her collar, she saw Molly do the same.

_'Trap. Attacked by DEs. Ron down. Hermione's flat.'_

She spun around and ran back through the door as she heard Molly cry out and Arthur's feet pounding through the house.

Strong arms snapped around her and pulled her off her feet.

"Let go, Snape! Let go, damn it!"

"What's going on?" cried her mother.

"Get him off of me!"

"The boys have been attacked by Death Eaters," Molly said. She scurried out into the yard and disappeared with a pop. Arthur appeared and raced out into the yard as well, clutching his wand and looking grim.

"We'll be back if we can," he said, before he Disapparated.

Snape didn't bend, as he nearly crushed the air out of her while she struggled. She managed to pull her wand out of her sleeve, but he plucked it out of her hands and threw it at her mother's feet.

"I have to go! I have to help! Get the fuck off of me, you bastard!"

Her parents stood in the doorway, unsure what to do.

"What's going on? What is he doing?" shouted her father.

"He won't let me go after them. They were packing my things in my flat! It's my fault!" She twisted around until she was looking into Snape's blank face. She contemplated kicking him in the stones. "If one of them dies, I will never forgive you! Do you hear me? You're fucking will to live is interfering with my will to _help_!"

He blinked, and for a moment she saw sadness and thought he was going to relent. Instead, he brought his wand up and stunned her.

* * *

Hermione woke up lying on a strange bed with Severus hovering over her, covered in blood. She screamed, and her mother came running into the room.

"He's okay! I checked him over," she said, as she pushed her way around him and hugged her daughter. "Everyone's going to be fine. Ron's going to be fine. Molly said his wife already fixed him up, and he's sleeping."

"But... Are you sure he's okay? Look at him!"

"It's not his blood, Hermione," her mother said with a shudder. "None of the attackers survived. Fred brought all of your things. What made it through the attack, anyway. It looks like most of it though. It's downstairs."

Hermione looked at the way Severus was staring at her and trembling.

"Mum, could you go make some tea? We'll be down after I get him settled."

"Absolutely. Just follow the hallway to the right at the bottom of the stairs and you'll eventually find the kitchen. Take your time, he needs a bath."

"Right," Hermione replied, reaching out and taking his spasming hand.

Her mother had barely closed the door when his hand tightened on hers, painfully.

"The pieces hurt me," he said, in a deep, gravelly voice.

"I know," she answered and tugged him close.

His other hand came up and slid into her hair and clenched and he pulled her face closer to his and kissed her. She felt the now familiar warmth flow through her as the light blinded them both. Unlike the first time, this kiss was more than a simple transference. When the light faded, his tongue slid into her mouth and she moaned and kissed him back as he tugged his hand out of hers and began to pull at her clothes. Hermione trembled, overwhelmed by what was happening as she felt him slide a hand under her shirt and gently grasp her breast with a shaking hand. She pulled him down onto the bed and felt her belly roll with pleasure as his breath escaped in a heavy sigh. Their kiss became more desperate as they tore at each other's clothes in a rush to merge. He yanked her jeans and pants off and fell on her, kissing her as he fumbled with himself to find her entrance. He pushed up on his arms and pressed himself inside. His eyes were alive and on fire as he opened them and looked down on her.

"So beautiful," he said in a rusty voice. "You're so beautiful inside."

"Oh, gods. So are you, Severus…"

There was no reply as he threw his head back and fucked her mercilessly. She was mesmerized by his face, as his blood-smeared features twisted from pleasure, to discovery, to transcendent ecstasy. He opened his eyes and looked down on her and he _saw_ her. He knew what he was doing and he _wanted_ her. She came. The look of desire on his face pushed her over the edge and she blew apart under him, trying desperately not to cry out. His face warped into a rictus and he lifted his head back up and cried, "Hermione, I'm here," as he poured himself into her.

She reached up and pulled him down and cradled him in her arms as he shook and held her tightly. His tremors finally subsided and she twisted her head so she could see his beautiful eyes. They were flat and dead and lifeless.

She bit her lip hard to stifle the scream that tried to tear through her. Her entire body shook from her silent sobs as she pushed him off of her and curled up into a ball.

* * *

It was time. She'd woken up early and made sure the two of them had eaten a large breakfast and then spent the rest of the morning reading up on the notes she'd dug out of her belongings.

Her parents were out in the yard, busying themselves with trying to organize nature. Severus had been content to sit and stare at the walls for hours, blinking slowly every few minutes, as she worked through her plan.

She closed her books, tidied her notes, and rose from her chair, hearing him rise smoothly as well. She left the large, open kitchen and headed up the stairs towards their wing, listening to his steady tread on the stairs behind her, as she made her way into the room she'd designated as his, when they'd finished unpacking yesterday.

"Sit down on the bed, Severus." she ordered. He obeyed without hesitation. She pulled off his boots and removed his cloak and asked him to center himself on the large bed. She climbed up and sat cross-legged, facing him, and pulled out her wand. She took a few moments to simply stare at him before raising the wand and saying, "Legilimens."

She felt her mind anchor on his like a magnet and then felt resistance. She focused herself and _pushed _and with a snapping sensation she was in.

* * *

She found herself in the Entrance Hall of Hogwarts. Surprised, she almost let the spell go, but caught herself before she tumbled away again.

She walked into the castle and heard the clicking of her shoes echo into the distance. She heard a noise behind her and turned to see the five-year-old Severus trailing her, his face caught between worry and joy. She knelt down and opened her arms and he smiled and hurtled into them, almost knocking her down. She rocked him back and forth and kissed him on the forehead before he dissipated in her arms. She felt a pleasant rippling in the warmth that was Severus's soul inside her.

She wandered until she came to the first classroom and she reached out and opened the door. Inside she found the stubborn Severus, wearing his ill-fitting cast-offs and throwing rocks into the stagnant canal.

"It's time," she called.

He looked over his shoulder with a sneer, but smirked when he saw her. He chucked one last rock and walked over to her, angling his head to try and hide the swollen and purpleded cheek and the eye that was crusted shut. She opened her arms, but he hesitated and looked at her with suspicion.

"He needs you," she said.

"No one needs me," he replied with scorn.

"I need you," she said gently.

He looked at her and then nodded before reaching out and clasping her hand. He broke apart as if made of smoke and she again felt the rippling sensation across the soul she carried.

She turned away and closed the door, heading back towards the Entrance Hall and down into the dungeons. She made her way to his old classroom and found him as a first-year student, hiding in the corner and swiping angrily at his tears.

She rested her hand on his shoulder.

"Nobody likes me," he said miserably. "Why?"

"You're different. Come with me and I'll show you why that's a good thing." He looked up at her with eyes full of suspicion and hope.

"You better be right," he said belligerently, as he reached for her hand.

She absorbed him as she had the others, before heading towards his old office. Inside she found a trail of blood and followed it to a tapestry on the wall. She pushed it aside and found Severus as he was when he was her teacher. He was sprawled on the floor, bleeding from the scourging that had taken most of the skin off his back. He clutched a bottle of healing potion to his chest.

She winced, but refused to lose control. She hunkered down and brushed at his face softly, until he opened his eyes.

"It never ends," he rasped. "He calls me night after night."

"Come with me," she said. "We will make it stop."

He looked into her eyes, and her heart twisted to see them swimming with tears.

"Take me. Take me away from this."

He grabbed at her and popped like a soap bubble on his last syllable and she took him inside as well. She felt his soul recoil and roil inside, but then it fell still, and it's warmth once again flowed through her veins.

She turned and walked.

She found nearly twenty aspects of Severus, each one carrying a different part of his personality. She found a randy Severus in a brothel, who made her wait until he'd finished. A studious Severus in the library, who cursed her for not letting him finish a book. The Severus in the kitchens, grinding his teeth while Christmas Music played throughout the castle, had nearly bolted for her when he saw her. A young Severus playing out in the snow and laughing as he was pelted with snowballs from an unseen source turned to her in confusion and then shuffled over to her as if going to his doom. She drew them to her, one by one, and each one in turn let go and joined with her.

In the Room of Requirement, she found the first one that refused. She stood amongst a thousand works of art, each statue, painting or photograph was a rendering of the same green-eyed red-head, with features that were too perfect to be real.

She had her first moral crisis.

He screamed at her and cursed her, flecks of foam flying from his mouth. He insulted her and called her names and denigrated her in a hundred ways, and she wanted to turn away and leave him behind. She didn't think her Severus needed this one_—_this obsessed stalker_—_but in the end, she told him if he stayed, the woman in the paintings would be forgotten and he screamed out his rage and flew at her, exploding when he grabbed her hand in his sweaty palm. She grew nauseous as she absorbed him.

She climbed the stairs to the Headmaster's office slowly, she was tiring. She heard the sound before she got there, an animal howl of pain and grief. She opened the door and saw him sitting on the couch, rocking back and forth, clutching his gut. He was a young man of about twenty and his face was a mask of wrenching loss and pain. She kneeled down in front of him.

"Come," she said. "There is a better place."

He looked at her with desperation and cried, "Lily? Is she there?"

"No."

"I killed her!"

"_He_ killed her."

"I can't live with this, I can't! I don't _deserve_ to live."

"Let me show you a better way," she said.

His head darted up and then back down, as if the act had increased his pain. One arm unclenched from his torso and he flung his hand out to her like a claw. She grasped it and felt him melt into her and staggered at his pain, before the ripples subsided again and she was at peace.

She made her way to the Defense classroom and found him in his office. His feet were up on his desk and a glass of what looked like whiskey was in one hand. He held a student's essay in the other. He turned his head and looked at her with distain before sipping his drink and placing it down on the desk.

"Miss Granger, to what do I owe this honor?"

"It's time," she said.

"Time? Time for what?" He dropped his long legs off the desk and started to rummage through the pile of scrolls. "I'm sure yours is in the mess, they're usually easy to spot. You have an irritating tendency to try and suck up with an overabundance of verbiage. I can always spot them from a distance. Ah! Here we are. I love this part." He pulled open the scroll and started to read: "However dangerous it is, if you read Silver Daggers, Golden Rules, by Harvey Oxmix, you will see clearly that in extreme cases the use of Soul Magic could be beneficial if the subject were in danger of their mortal soul becoming irretrievably corrupted."

He let the scroll snap closed and dropped it to his desk with a flick.

"Tell me Miss Granger, what is the single most important fact that you've overlooked. Just tell me, off the top of your head, and I'll give you an Outstanding."

"Well, if one reads Sprague, Windlass and Eiderfold, one will realize that the most important thing involved in Soul Magic is the level of willingness of the persons involved. In order to not corrupt the soul, one must be willing to embrace it in its entirety. Lumps, bumps and all."

He leaped up from his desk and stalked over to her, peering intently into her face.

"Are you willing, Miss Granger?"

"Utterly."

He looked at her for a long time before leaning in closer and whispering, "You were wrong, Miss Granger."

"Sir?" she asked, confused.

"He _has_ fucked you in his dreams before. He always wanted to forget. _I _wouldn't let him." His face dissolved into pure desire, before he kissed her and vanished.

She tasted whiskey.

She turned to leave the office but heard a rattling in the cupboard. She turned her head and frowned, wondering if a boggart could be in someone's mind. If that person was insane, in was entirely possible. She lifted up her wand and pulled open the cupboard. A Death Eater sprang out.

He was fast, he was strong, and he was terrifying as he grabbed her and cuffed her across the mouth with a gloved hand and flung her to the floor. She struggled, but his strength was incredible, as he pinned her and Vanished her jeans.

She got an arm free and belted him across the face, and his mask flew away. She saw his glittering black eyes under the hood and screamed, until he banged her head against the stone floor and stunned her, so he could claw at her underwear. As soon as she felt his flesh touch hers, he tore apart with a howl that turned out to be her own voice.

She curled up into a ball and sobbed hysterically. The soul she carried boiled inside as this black bit of Snape was absorbed and almost vomited back out. She huddled on the floor for a long time.

"You must get up. You must finish. You cannot leave it undone," he said impatiently. She rocked up onto her knees and aimed her wand at him. He was the Severus that was her age, the one that personified his duty. He looked at her impatiently.

"He didn't enjoy it, if that's what you're worried about. He never had a choice. He just did what he had to. Everything you see here is a byproduct of that same ethos. He compartmentalized, Miss Granger. You see rooms. He saw boxes. Carefully labeled and organized boxes that were destroyed that night. The thing you saw was something he created to survive and then locked away twenty years ago.

"If you want to know the other side of that face, you need to finish. It's almost done. There are only two more."

She pushed herself up off the floor, noting absently that her clothes were, in fact, intact, since none of this was real. He turned on his heel and walked away. She tried to pull herself together, as she followed him through the castle and up towards the Astronomy tower. She wrestled to get her thoughts back in order and her emotions under control.

Another Snape was waiting for her in the hallway. The way he moved, the way he held himself, she knew this was _her _Snape. The one she met most often in her dreams, the one who openly loved her. She looked back to the other, but he was gone.

"There are more," her Snape said, "but they are still bound to the center. He lost the best of himself first. Other things he had long hidden away slipped free unnoticed. What he holds tight is what he needs to survive. It is not pretty, what he clings to, Hermione, but there is good left as well. You must free him."

"I will free him now."

"Then I will be no more."

"You said you would be inside!"

"I will be a part of him again. Know that whatever happens, a part of him loves you." He opened his arms to her and she hesitated, knowing that she might not come out of this situation with her own little dream intact, then she ran forward and flung her arms around him. He held her tightly, the two of them just being with each other in this moment.

"You give him strength, and you give him purpose. He needs love, needs it desperately, but he will have no way of understanding what you offer. Love him anyway, Hermione, as I love you."

He bent his head and kissed her and she felt the warmth flood her as he nestled deep inside.

She lifted her head and saw the younger Snape waiting for her at the stairs leading up to the Astronomy Tower.

She started forward and he turned away and ascended.

When she threw open the door at the top of the tower she was more than tired, she was utterly spent. The young man was gone, but in his place was yet another Snape. He paced in a circle aiming his wand at his head and trying to kill himself, over and over and over. Blood ran freely from his face and neck as the wand endlessly exploded in his hand.

"Severus, come," she called.

He looked at her and his arm movement faltered. His face was a mass of tics and twitches and his body constantly jerked and convulsed. He held out his broken wand to her and cried. Great, wracking hiccupping sobs tore from him and she opened her arms.

"I did wrong. I always do wrong. I'm always forced to do the wrong thing! I don't want to anymore! _I DON'T WANT TO ANYMORE_!" He shrieked as he lifted his restored wand back up to his head.

"No!" she cried, as she ran to him and threw her arms around him. She held him tightly, just as she had a few moments ago in the hallway downstairs. The expected Unforgivable didn't leave his bloodied lips. He just looked down on her.

"Why on earth _not_?" he asked in a voice full of devastation. "I have destroyed everything I have touched."

If the aspect downstairs had been his will to survive, this was, without a doubt, his wish to die. What could she offer this one?

"Because you need to understand the meaning of it all first," she said finally.

"There is no meaning. There is no purpose. I am but a plaything of a dark and cruel god and I don't want to play anymore."

"Come with me and we can have our revenge on this god," she said. "He doesn't want you to be loved, but I already love you."

She lifted up on her toes and kissed his bloody face and he looked at her in confusion. She stepped back and waited, and before long, he lifted a hand and rubbed his ragged knuckles against her cheek. He leaned closer to her and said, "Do you swear to this?"

"I do."

He closed his eyes and leaned his head down slowly until his forehead touched hers and he slid away into the air. Hermione bucked under the weight he added to the soul she carried.

She straightened up and turned toward the sneering young man who looked at her with distrust.

"Is that all of them?" she asked.

"Yes. All the ones that came unanchored."

"How has he lasted without his will to survive?"

"By feeding on his need for revenge."

"How can he have made it this long without his sense of duty?" she asked.

"He hasn't. I will never fail him."

"But you're here."

"I am not unanchored, Miss Granger. He sent me. I am here to make sure you do what needs to be done."

She looked out at the dark night beyond the tower's parapets.

"Is he ready?" she asked.

"Yes."

"Does he understand what he will be facing."

"In a limited way."

"Does he know he has people that care about him still?"

"That is of no consequence."

Hermione stared at the unpleasant young Snape before her.

"You don't like me very much, do you?"

"That is also of no consequence."

"Nevertheless, I want to know why."

His face crinkled into a disgusted sneer.

"You are another burden," he spat.

"But I was a useful tool, wasn't I?"

His chin lifted in challenge.

"Of course. But your use will soon be over, and all that will be left is the debt."

She felt her anger build and struggled to keep it restrained.

"Go back to him. Go back to the center, and tell him I am coming."

"As you wish," he said. He turned and headed towards the door of the tower but faded away before he reached it.

Hermione looked around one more time and then let go of her control, and felt herself ejected from his mind.

* * *

Oooo... I loved writing this chapter.

Also, did you know if you type pieces enough times it starts to look really stupid?

Let me know what you think! Use big words, I might need them later...


	13. The Sleeper Awakens

AN: This is the big moment!

* * *

Hermione sagged onto the bed as the connection dissolved. She was tired. She was more than tired, she was weighted down. The soul nestled deep inside her was heavy. The exiled whispers in her mind, both alluring and repugnant, created an agitation that wouldn't settle. She felt a growing panic that they would take over and she would lose herself. She wanted something to ground herself. She needed an anchor, before she finished the last step.

She scrambled off the bed and looked at Severus, still sitting cross-legged and flat-eyed before her.

"I think we need a bit of tea before the end, don't you think?"

He didn't respond, of course.

She turned and headed for the door, but stopped when she realized he wasn't following her.

"Snape, follow me," she said.

He didn't move.

She frowned and walked back over to him.

"Lay down, Severus."

Nothing.

She gently pushed on his shoulder and he fell back onto the bed with his legs still twisted up. She pulled them straight and then stood back and stared at him, fear starting to slither up her spine as the unintelligible whispers in her mind began to clamor and shout.

"Perhaps it would be best to just finish this now then," she said, forcing her voice to sound casual.

She climbed back up on the bed and crouched over Severus' supine form, as she began to unbutton his robes and the shirt underneath. She pulled them aside, baring his pale chest, sprinkled with soft black hair and marred by scars. She sighed and placed her palm flat over his heart for a moment, feeling the slow steady beat under her hand, before leaning across him and picking her silver knife up off the bedside table. She slashed the meat of her palm again, wincing at the sting and then let the blood drip on his chest, over his heart. She made another small cut on his chest, in the same place, and then tossed the knife to the floor. She took a few quick breaths and then replaced her palm over his heart, leaned close to his face, and whispered, "_Solvonimus,"_ before touching her lips to his.

The spell swept through her as soon as they made contact.

What Severus had done to her was undone with a vengeance.

She was physically buffeted as the warm treacle of his soul turned to burning pitch and surged up and out of her, flaring with a blinding light as it sought home. Pain tore through her and her body tried to jerk away. She struggled to keep her focus; if she faltered now, they would both end upeither dead, or as soulless as Dementor victims. She whimpered into his slack mouth, trying to maintain the _willingness_, the absolute desire to submit to this pain for a greater good, but it was too much. Her body now felt like it was being torn apart by a thousand shards of glass as her nerve endings rebelled.

"The pieces hurt me!" she wailed, as she tried to pull away.

Hands came up and grabbed her upper arms with a vice-like grip as his head came up to reclaim her lips. She felt a tug, and the pain vanished. The last pieces of the soul she carried slipped away with a gentle, warm caress that left her feeling hollow and empty.

Her last thought was that she couldn't remember ever feeling so cold, and then everything went black.

* * *

_Hermione found herself standing barefoot in the snow on the wide, empty moor. She pulled the folds of the voluminous nightgown around her and waited for the sound of footsteps while she shivered uncontrollably. Moments slipped by and the enveloping silence became stifling. She twisted around in circles looking over her shoulder for him in vain._

_He didn't come._

_She looked down and saw the blood from her hand had left a trail down her gown and across the white snow into the distance, following a path made by footprints that led away from her. She started to follow them, lifting the hem of her gown and quickening her pace, but every time she looked up, she was back where she started. _

_Frustrated, she broke into a run and tore her bare feet on the frozen ground as she sped across the moor after the man she knew was slipping away._

_She followed the bloody trail to a wall with a narrow door. The wall stretched off into the distance on either side and was growing taller even as she watched. She grabbed at the doorknob and pulled, but it was locked. She knocked, and then pounded and eventually clawed at the door, crying and calling out for him to come and let her in. It was cold and she knew she would die without the warmth that was on the other side. She crouched down and put her eye to the keyhole and saw him. He was walking away from her down an aisle between shelves filled with an infinite number of boxes. Every so often he would turn and straighten a lid, settling it down tighter._

_She called to him, setting her lips against the keyhole and shouting, but he only twitched his head to the side for a moment before walking into the shadows and leaving her out in the cold._

_She collapsed against the door sobbing, frozen, tired and terribly alone, as the wall grew ever higher until it blotted out the sun._

* * *

Severus Snape opened his eyes and glanced around a room lit with a watery afternoon sun. He looked down at the young woman, pressing him flat to the bed with her weight and frowned in confusion. He pushed her off of him and sat up, a long, pale hand rising up and rubbing at the wound on his chest, before he pulled his wand out and healed it and then began to hurriedly button up his robes. He left the bed and jammed his feet into his boots before taking a deep breath and setting his shoulders. He dragged a hand through his hair and then turned back towards the bed.

"Miss Granger, wake up," he said in a graveled voice.

* * *

Harry listened as Neville and Kingsley gave their latest reports to Dumbledore. Death Eater activity had slowed since the attack at Hermione's apartment, which was a blessing since the Order was still reeling from the close call.

They'd had no warning at all. After a security sweep of the area, the three Weasleys had started in on shrinking and boxing Hermione's possessions when the small flat had suddenly filled with five Death Eaters. Ron had gone down right away from the glancing blow of a curse that had mercifully only removed the bones from his legs. A square hit would have left him dying in agony.

Fred and George had acted swiftly, throwing up and maintaining a Shield Charm until the others had arrived. Unfortunately, the Death Eaters had called for backup as well and all was soon chaos as walls were blown out and the fight spread into neighboring flats.

Snape had appeared in the midst of this, and Harry still had trouble sleeping from what he had seen. Snape had planted himself in front of the fallen Ron and fought like something sprung from the bowels of hell. He had howled like a demon constantly as he'd torn apart his opposition with spells Harry knew no name for.

The Death Eaters had turned on him as a unified force to their own detriment. Order members had quickly seized on this tactical mistake and quickly taken them down from behind before Snape could be overrun. Harry had doubts as to whether or not that was even possible.

It was what happened afterwards that was the most disturbing. As Order members had seen to Ron andthe injured Muggles in the aftermath, Snape had quietly slashed the throats of all the prisoners before he'd Apparated back to the Granger's home.

Talk had quickly shifted to how Snape could be used as a weapon. Dumbledore thought they could exploit Snape's psychotic fury, now that it was known that the Death Eaters were terrified of him.

Harry had more than a few misgivings about this. He'd been rocked to his core when the Headmaster had quietly admitted that he had, in fact, been set up to hate Severus enough to actually kill him to gain mastery of the wand from the beginning. His respect for Dumbledore had taken a hit that Harry feared might have been fatal. He'd spent long nights in Ginny's arms trying to deal with how badly his world have shifted out from under him. He'd waited five long years for the old man's knowledge, sure that it held the key to everything, only to find the Headmaster's strategies and tactics had all become outmoded and outdated when Draco had disarmed him. Any chance at salvaging them had failed when Snape's mind had snapped.

Harry left the three to debate strategy and slipped out of the room to find some fresh air. He stepped into the hallway and stopped short when he came face to face with Snape.

Harry blinked several times as he slipped his wand out of his sleeve, trying to understand what was wrong, before it hit him. Snape was looking right at him and he looked… nervous.

"She did it, didn't she?" Harry said quietly.

"Yes," he replied. His eyes darted over Harry's shoulder as Remus started in again on a debate about ethics, only to be countered by Dumbledore's assertion that anything that protected the innocent could be justified.

"How long have you been listening?" Harry asked.

"Long enough to know Albus is badly mangling his Machiavelli," Snape answered with a quick, darting look at Harry.

"I'm glad their debate is a moot point, Mr. Snape,"

"Are you? He has a valid argument."

"Having a valid argument is beside the fact. They are talking about using you as a weapon. That's hardly a feasible plan, now is it? According to Hermione, you're not naturally violent. If you're back to your old self, you can't be used that way, can you?" Harry looked at Snape, but couldn't understand what the man's expression meant. Trying to get a feel for the man's thoughts was like trying to climb a glass wall. There was no purchase. "Was she wrong? _Are_ you still capable of being a killer?"

Snape looked back at Harry and stared at him for a long moment before he finally answered, "No."

Harry sagged with relief. There was no lie in the man's eye. Harry's own Legilimency was a gnat in the face of Snape's Occlumency, but he'd let his shields down long enough for Harry to see the truth. Harry had also picked up an echo of how very frightened the man was.

"You're not ready to face what's in there yet. Let's go up to the library and have a private talk while they're distracted," Harry offered. "Are you hungry?"

"Yes," replied Snape stiffly.

"Come on, let's sneak upstairs and I'll have Kreacher bring us some supper.

Harry turned and led the way down the hall, as he dug in his collar and pulled out his medallion.

* * *

Hermione read the words, _'He's with me. He's fine.' _and blew out a huge sigh of relief.

"Was that about Snape?" her father asked.

"Yeah. Harry's got him. I guess he turned up at Grimmauld."

"There weren't many other places he could have gone," her mother put in. "Molly told me his childhood home had been destroyed, and he hardly could have gone back to the school. I told you he'd be fine."

Hermione nodded in acknowledgement and stared out through the window into the yard. She'd been on the verge of tears for the last twenty minutes since she'd woken to a gruff voice barking at her.

He'd healed her hand, while he'd struggled through an awkward thank you and an even more tragic apology. He hadn't looked in her eyes once. If fact, he kept his head down and his hair had an annoying tendency to fall into his face, hiding his features. Only once during that stilted, awful conversation had she actually seen his face and what it showed had been like a knife in the gut. He was ashamed. He was deeply, and excruciatingly ashamed of himself. She'd tumbled off the bed and stretched her hand out towards him but he'd recoiled as if from a viper. His last words were, "I need to see to a few details." Then he'd whirled away and stormed out the door, while she'd slowly dropped to the floor. Her parents had come running up the stairs shortly after.

Her father put a plate down in front of her. "Sweetheart, I know you've developed feelings for him, and I know you had your hopes up, but let's look at this from a practical point of view. You have a forty-five year old-

"Forty-three."

"Hair splitting. You have a forty-something year old man who has some very serious issues he's going to need to deal with. Your feelings might not be a priority right now. Even if he cares for you, and I halfway would prefer if he didn't_—_I owe the man, but I'm not thrilled at the idea of you two as an item, to be honest_—_he's going to need space." He reached out and squeezed her hand. "From what Molly and Minerva have told us about him, he doesn't seem like the kind of man that would be grateful for charity. He's proud. I can easily see how he might be pretty upset to know that we've all helped him take a bath. Tread lightly, Hermione. I would keep your distance and wait for him to come to you."

She nodded and squeezed his hand back.

"I'll miss him the way he was," her mother said, earning looks from her family. "I'm serious. He was sweet, in a 'I-could-kill-you-at-any-moment' kind of way. It was cute the way he followed you around all the time, and I have to say I liked knowing that he was there to protect you. Not many mothers have the satisfaction of knowing if anyone touches their child they will have their limbs torn off, literally."

"_Mum_! That's just_—_"

"Rather disturbing," her father finished, looking at his wife.

"Well, I'm sorry for being honest. He was just so rigid and unpleasant when he came into the kitchen before. Sure, he was polite, but you could open beer bottles with his stiff upper lip. I just think back to the man standing at the door in that pink coat and holding bags of Chinese and I feel so terrible for what he had to go through to get to you. Now that you've saved him, he hardly seems happy."

"Yes, well," said John, "if we are hoping for a peaceful resolution to this situation, it would probably be best of you didn't mention the pink coat."

"True." Her mother pushed her plate closer to her daughter. "Eat up, dear."

* * *

Harry handed Snape a glass of Ogden's, tea had been vetoed by mutual consent.

"Is Hermione alright?" he asked.

Snape looked uncomfortable with the question.

"Her health is fine," he replied. "I admit to a certain amount of trepidation about her mental status, given what I put her through."

"What did you put her through? Was it really only because of that paper she wrote?"

Snape's eyes shuttered and he answered with a curt, "Yes." He sipped his drink and then placed it on the table. "The last conscious thought I had was that if I could find a different path, she would understand what was going on and be able to pull me back."

"What do you mean, a different path?"

Snape sighed and closed his eyes briefly.

"In that moment after I killed Albus, I saw the future_—_two futures_—_both of them equally repugnant. I only had a moment to create a third possibility and I grabbed it. It was anchored on Granger's ability to finish her research. I wouldn't have done, if I'd known it would take five years."

"Which future would you have accepted instead?"

"The fourth choice. I would have allowed myself to be killed. The other two were to fail you when you needed me the most, or fail you and join the Dark Lord."

"I think you chose wisely, Mr. Snape."

"Do you? Even if it means I have damaged your friend?" he asked. Harry shivered at the quiet menace in his voice. "She will never be the same, and I will not be able to fix her the way she fixed me."

"She's a big girl, and she went into this with her eyes open, Snape. Are you fixed? How much do you… recall?"

"I am sane, if that is your worry. My health is sound, and as far as I know my magic is undamaged. As for what I recall, too much. It is like a vivid nightmare, parts are hazy but what is retained chills the blood."

Kreacher appeared and placed a tray of sandwiches on the table before popping away again.

"Dumbledore was afraid that returning you to your self would be a cruelty."

Snape's eyes flared briefly. "I am stronger than that. I can still serve. I am still useful."

"That's pretty much what the rest of us thought. Remus was particularly vocal on that point."

Snape's head snapped back just a fraction of an inch. "Indeed," he said. He leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. "Tell me where things stand, Potter. How many Horcruxes are left?"

"As far as we know, only one. Me."

"Are you sure?"

"Albus confirmed the ones we've disposed of. Two were inert, he spent them after he recycled himself again."

"How do you know he hasn't made any more?"

"We don't, but Hermione was working on a way to detect them before things with you became too complicated." Harry consciously returned the conversation back to Hermione just to watch the way the man reacted. He couldn't get a bead on whether or not it was anger or shame that kept flaring off the man whenever she was mentioned.

"I can help in that research. I'm sure Lupin could as well."

"He has his hands full with the werewolves." Snape looked at him with a question in his eyes. "Remus fought for and won the leadership of the pack after you killed Greyback. They've been our spies since, but they are an unruly lot to control. He's been challenged eight times. We've had difficulties brewing enough Wolfsbane for an entire pack. Draco used to, but…"

Both men grew quiet for a long while.

"I took care of him for you, Snape. I heard what you said to him that night. I made sure the Order protected him. He really came into his own. He was proud of himself. Everyone was devastated by his loss. I think you would have liked the man he'd turned into."

Snape just nodded and stared off into the fire.

"I will take over the brewing, if you have facilities and ingredients. I also have information on the Dark Lord that will be useful, and can help research ways to detect Horcruxes. If you can think of any other capacity in which I might serve, do not hesitate to ask."

"Those things will be a huge help. I can think of another way you can be of service as well. Stay with the Grangers. Protect them."

Snape recoiled and said, "Surely there are others that_—_"

"Our manpower is spread a little thin, and many of our old safe houses have been compromised by Fletcher. Riddle knows about Grimmauld, but has yet to find a way in. It seems Fletcher kept that secret in case he needed a place to hide from his own friends."

"What's become of him?"

"He's rotting in Azkaban. I need the Grangers protected and you are the most logical choice. I can ship Draco's lab there and you can help Hermione in her research as well. There have been two attempts on her life already. She is no longer just a likely target. She's caused too much damage to his organization. She needs to be protected."

Snape settled down with a murmured, "Very well."

"Can I ask you one more thing?"

Snape waved a hand.

"Would you really have allowed me to kill you for mastery of the wand?"

Snape drained his glass before looking at him. "Of course."

"Why? What possible reason would have justified that?"

"I killed your mother, Potter."

It was Harry's turn to recoil. "You didn't know! How can you think that she would want that?"

"I took away what she _did_ want. My life was forfeit after that."

"You really did love her, didn't you?"

Snape rose from the chair and pulled his cloak about him.

"I haven't stopped," he replied, before sweeping out the door.

* * *

Hermione heard the pop out in the yard and lifted up her wand. Molly had stopped by earlier, but had left an hour before. Her parents had retired shortly after that, with Crookshanks strolling along behind them, as usual. Ever since they had all nearly burned to Death, Crooks rarely let her parents out of his sight. She was alone in the large kitchen. She slid out if the chair and stepped behind the island as the latch on the door shifted.

She let her wand fall when she saw Severus open the door.

The two of them stared at each other in silence across the expanse of worktop.

"Did everything go well?" she asked.

"Yes," he replied. "Potter has assigned me a few duties. I will need to claim a room for brewing."

She smiled timidly. "That's great. Take whichever one you think is best."

He nodded, stiffly and then bid her good night and started for the stairs.

"Severus?" she called.

He turned and looked at her with a pained expression.

"Miss Granger_—_"

His words cut off as she ran up to him. "Does it have to be like this? Can't we at least be friends?" she said in a rush.

He took a step back from her. "I don't think that would be either wise, or appropriate."

"Appropriate? I carried your soul, Snape, and you're telling me being friends would be inappropriate?"

"Miss Granger, please. You must understand, I _am_ sorry. I'm so sorry. I have no idea how I can make amends for what I put you through." His face melted into an expression of horror, and she suddenly felt waves of self-loathing radiate off of him. "Potter asked me to come back here, or I wouldn't have. I don't think it's healthy for you to have me here."

"Why?" she cried, reaching out to him.

He grabbed both of her arms before she could touch him and pushed them away. "_Why? _Because I raped you! How can you ask me _why_?"

"_Raped_ me? No, you didn't. If anyone had any culpability, it could be successfully argued the other way. There was little conscious decision on my part, Severus, and none at all on yours."

His hands slipped off her arms, and he looked lost and confused. "I didn't?"

"No. I think you might be confused a bit about what is reality, and what is the influence of some missing parts of your personality I found when I was healing you."

"But I still had sex with a student. I _know _that happened," he said with disgust.

"Severus, I'm twenty-four years old, and there were a _lot _of extenuating circumstances."

"But…"

"I think we need to find some time tomorrow and sit down and talk. You seem to be carrying guilt over a false memory," she said in a shaking voice. "Perhaps it would be best if you rest. Your mind might be a bit overloaded. You've only been aware for a few hours now and you've gone and jumped into the lion's den against all common sense."

He nodded his head. Hermione could _feel _how confused and disoriented he was. He pulled himself up to his full height and the emotions she felt emanating from him snuffed out like a candle.

"I think I shall rest," he said. "If you would be so kind as to tell me where my bed may be found?"

"The room you woke up in, at the top of the stairs. At the end of the hall is a room filled with boxes, I have a few books there, if you want something to read."

"Thank you," he said, before turning away.

* * *

Ta da! And it's allll better! No? Oh. That would explain what these other seven chapters are for...

Review!


	14. Finding One's Place

AN: Lobs chapter like a grenade and runs

* * *

"Smaller, it needs to be cubed into uniform sizes. Here, use this one as a reference."

Hermione walked into the kitchen and followed the voices into the side room. Snape had taken it over as his lab, preferring to have as many stone walls around him as possible, in case of accident. She stood in the doorway and watched as her mother nodded and set about dicing whatever was in front of her.

"Are you helping with the subtle art of potions making, mum?" she asked. Hermione's eyes flicked to Severus, looking for a reaction. She was disappointed.

"Not yet. I'm practicing my knife skills on the carrots and turnips for tonight's stew. Severus is just indulging me. Did you need anything, dear?"

"I had a question for Snape, but I can see it's a bad time."

He finally turned and flicked his eyes at her before quickly darting them away again. He never looked into her eyes anymore. It had been a week since he'd woke up, and in that time they had engaged in a number of conversations, where she spoke to him, and he spoke to the wall over her head.

"I will be at a safe stopping point in a moment," he replied.

"I'll be in the kitchen then," she said.

She turned and walked away.

She placed her book on the table and sat, staring out the window at her father in the yard chopping up a dead rowan tree. There really was no shortage of firewood, but it made him feel busy. Obviously her mother had found herself some busywork as well.

The three older members of the household seemed rather content this last week. Snape seemed pleased with the acceptance of her mother, and he and her father had taken to a nightly game of cards.

John Granger had taken ruthless advantage of Snape's inexperience playing poker right up until the rules had been figured out and the tide had turned with a vengeance.

Hermione had finally clued her father in to the dangers of making eye contact with a man who could read minds and now the games were more or less even.

They made a nice domestic scene.

The only fly in the ointment was Hermione, herself. She was patently sick of being treated like an indulged junior member of the household. Complaining did no good. Her mother was sympathetic, but her father just gave her a hug and a kiss on the forehead. He was just fine with the idea that the much older Snape did _not _actually have any designs on his daughter.

What bothered her to no end was that she knew for a fact that this wasn't true. Well, it was true he had no designs on her, but it was more than obvious that he had feelings. Not that her parents knew this secret. There was probably no one else on the planet that knew what he kept hidden, but Hermione had an inside source, his soul.

"You wished to speak with me?"

She turned her head to see him also staring out the window.

She opened the book she had been reading and slid it over to him.

"I know you can feel the echoes of my emotions, just as I can feel yours," she said without preamble. "We still have a link because of the Soul Magic we shared, and the bond appears to be stronger than what I had originally calculated."

He stiffened up and color flooded into his cheeks, as he took a step away.

"Relax, Snape. We beat all that to death last week. I wouldn't bring up anything you find unpleasant or humiliating again, unless there was good reason," she snapped, angered by his reaction.

"I want your opinion on the feasibility of exploring Harry's connection to the Dark Lord. If I can tell when you've come home, perhaps there is a way we can amplify the effect and then teach Harry to exploit his connection to find Tom Riddle and any other Horcruxes that might be out there."

He looked down at the book in front of him and read through the chapter quickly. It was obvious when he got to the part that spoke of how Sex Magic could be used to amplify the connection, because he turned puce.

Hermione ground her teeth together. If she could feel his attraction, why could he not feel hers? She felt another gut churning stab of loss, thinking of how far apart they'd grown so quickly after he'd come to his senses again.

"Harry would hardly have the cooperation of the Dark Lord in figuring out how to strengthen their connection," he sneered, when he'd finished the passage.

"I know. That's why I'm going to ask you if it is alright if I work on ways to strengthen our connection without your active cooperation. I want your feedback on what you detect, but I am going to try to work without your actual help."

He looked uncomfortable and then dropped the book back on the table.

"Perhaps it would have been better for you to have simply attempted to do so. By telling me of your plan, you might have just skewed the results of your experimentation. My knowledge might be a factor in a success Potter will not be able to duplicate. Sloppy work, Granger." He darted a scathing look at her and she _felt _his scorn.

Her growing anger turned incandescent.

"I'm terribly sorry. I was actually concerned that if I started to toy with the soul bond, you might have felt _violated_. Or perhaps you might have even _resented not being given a choice_. Perhaps you might have even felt a bit _degraded_ if you were _subjected_ to a deeper knowledge of just how much I like chocolate!" Hermione's voice had dropped into a low threat as she verbally slapped him with the words he had thrown at her last week when they had tried to sort through the mess the first time. There hadn't been a second time. Since they were both sure they now knew the facts as they actually were, there had been no call for a repeat of the devastatingly painful conversation they'd already shared.

She felt Snape's anger turn to regret and then quickly into resentment. His head turned and he stared into her eyes for the first time since he'd woke up.

"You don't get it, do you, little girl? I don't want to feel your feelings! I don't want you to feel mine!"

"Well, that's just too damned bad, Snape, because we are stuck this way for life! Is it really so horrifying to be attracted to me? Especially when you know it is reciprocated?"

His face paled and his mouth opened and closed before his eyes filled with a rage that made Hermione wince. He leaned in close and hissed, "_Yes_. Being forced to be attracted to you is degrading, and it cheapens the actual love I feel for a woman that was infinitely more worthy!"

Hermione reeled as if she'd been slapped.

"Forced?" she gasped out weakly.

His face went still and his eyebrows knit together.

"You didn't realize it was compelled?" he asked. She just stared at him. "Granger, did you honestly think you were actually attracted to me?"

Her eyes filled with tears and she sat back down, hard. He closed his eyes and rubbed them before sitting in the chair next to her and grabbing up the Sprague book. He flipped through it and pushed it back to her.

"You told me you read everything," he said quietly. "I thought you understood what we were suffering from."

"It feels so real," she whispered. "How do we know it's not?"

He sighed and bowed his head. "Granger, be reasonable. On what world would someone like you fall in love with someone like me?"

"This one. This world, right here." She scrubbed at her eyes. "So there's no chance that you would ever love someone like me?" she asked.

"I already love the only woman I ever will, Granger. Now you understand what I meant last week when I said I had violated you. I appreciate that you wanted to absolve me of my guilt, but I assure you, it's not possible. As long as we stay strong, mentally, we can beat this. You can be free. You can love again, freely. You must shut your mind to the idea that you care for me, it is not your thought, it is the bond left behind by what I did to you."

Hermione sniffed and wiped her eyes on her sleeve before looking up into his sad, dark eyes. It felt so much like love. It felt exactly like what she thought love should feel like. How could it not be the real thing? What about the words he'd spoken in her dreams? Could it _all_ have been a lie? Was there truly no part deep inside him that loved her after all? She felt her heart break and saw him flinch as she pushed herself back from the table and ran out of the room.

* * *

Weeks went by and the atmosphere in the house had grown heavy. Hermione kept to her rooms, venturing out only for meals and to soak in the tub when she needed to clear her thoughts of her research, or her sadness if her research no longer masked it.

She would come out to speak to Harry or Ron or any number of other Order members, as long as it pertained to her research. As soon as the conversation shifted away to mundane topics, she would make her excuses.

Her mother was at her wit's end with her, she knew, and her father had grown concerned enough to try and start several awkward and easily derailed heart-to-heart chats. She could feel Severus's turmoil as a constant counterpoint to her own and occasionally felt his worried gaze during meals, but she ignored it. She ignored them all. She couldn't figure out how to shut her mind to the idea of caring for just Severus, so she closed it on them all. She only hoped when she stopped feeling his gnawing despair and guilt, she would be able to open herself back up to those who wanted her to care.

She was coming out of the bathroom one evening, wrapped in her dressing gown with a towel on her head and a book clutched under her arm, when she found herself face-to-face with Snape. Her heart started to pound in her chest but she quickly looked at the floor and ordered her mind to become still. She had been working hard on her Occlumency skills.

"Yes? Did you want something?" she asked with forced casualness.

"I just wanted to tell you that I've detected nothing of your attempts to strengthen the bond. I didn't know if you needed to know that for your research."

She sighed. "Oh. Is that all?"

He shifted and she felt a wave of despair wash over her. "Did you?"

"Did I what?"

"Need to know that for your research?"

"No. I'm not pursuing that avenue. After our talk, it seemed too disruptive. I'm looking for alternative ways for Harry to exploit the link, as well as ways we might be able to sever ours. If I can end our link, we could use that research towards cutting off Harry's connection to the Horcrux in his scar. That way, he might actually survive when that Horcrux is removed."

"But what about locating other Horcruxes? Your idea had merit."

She lifted her head and looked into his worried and agitated eyes as she shoved her book at him.

"You research it if you want. I won't be held responsible when you figure out the woman you love died twenty years ago, and now you're just alone."

She felt the shock and subsequent spiraling anger, but pushed the feelings away and headed to her room. She barely reacted when his bedroom door slammed hard enough to shake dust from the ceiling down onto her bed.

* * *

Hermione held onto Daisy while Lavender made lunch. Lily and James were making a mess of their own meals, keeping Ginny busy with the Tergeos.

"I can't believe how big Daisy is already. I really have been spending too much time on my research," Hermione said, looking around the warm kitchen of the Burrow. "This was a splendid idea." She turned to Ginny. "I'm so glad you and Harry dragged me out of that house."

"It was past time," Ginny said. "Everyone's been worried about you, the last few weeks, but I think you're coming out on the other side of it. Snape had said something to Harry about your being damaged by what happened, but I think it could have just been stress. I think you were just depressed. That's not exactly unusual in my book, given what we've all gone through."

"You have a point. I think you're probably right."

"So how are things now? Snape will only really talk to Harry or Remus. He's very polite to my parents, but the rest of us get the cold shoulder."

Hermione looked out into the sitting room and saw her parents chatting away with Molly and Arthur. Beyond them on the couch sat Snape, looking stiff and uncomfortable.

As she stared, his head turned towards her and she quickly looked down at the baby. This had become a regular occurrence. One of them would feel the attention of the other and look, only to see eyes slide away.

Snape had redoubled his Occlumency shields, keeping them in place at all times now, and Hermione had learned to work her own rudimentary protection. They were no longer buffeted by each other's emotions all the time, which was an immense relief. However, it never held up when their attention was actively focused on each other. She could still feel his collection of guilt, remorse and the self-loathing that barely cloaked his sexual awareness of her. She cringed when she thought about what he must be picking up from her.

"Things just are. He's been busy with the Wolfsbane, when he's not closeted with Harry, Kingsley and Remus plotting. It's been rather quiet around the house, my parents have been working in the yard, trying to structure the chaos in the garden. I think it keeps them from going stir crazy. Mom's still trying to learn Potions, she's actually helping chop ingredients now. I have no idea if Snape Vanishes them when she's not looking, or if she's good enough to really help. They've sold their practice. They finally realized that this is going to be a long-term situation. I've tried to get them to think about moving out of the country, but they won't hear of it."

"But how are you," asked Lavender.

"I just keep to myself, mostly. The research keeps me too busy to think."

"Well, your research is our best hope at the moment," said Ginny. "Harry is very excited about the direction you're moving in, so I wouldn't feel too badly about being a bit of a hermit. You just need to get away once in a while. Trust us, we know about carrying such a responsibility every day can do to you," Ginny said, nodding at the baby in her arms. "Sure, it's rewarding, but the mental fatigue can be overwhelming."

"Agreed," added Lavender, setting plates before them on the table.

"Perhaps you could take some time to show us what you're working on," said Ginny. "I would really like to know more about this Horcrux in my husband's head. You could teach me about Soul Magic over tea."

Hermione nodded. "I could! I think that would be a great idea! That way the knowledge won't be limited to just me and Snape, in case something happens."

"Then it's a plan," smirked Lavender. "We'll be ladies who lunch, and figure out how to destroy souls…"

The three of them burst into laughter.

* * *

Hermione closed her book and sat back at her desk. She'd spent days researching this last point and doing countless mental exercises to try and train her mind for this one moment. As always, it came down to willingness.

She lifted up her research notes and scanned the page one more time. Ever since her conversation with Snape in the kitchen, she'd been avoiding the subject of coercion in Soul Magic, but as the time drew near to put her new theories into practice, it became imperative that she understand the dynamic between Snape and herself completely first.

Two days of studying had shown her that he was wrong. They weren't compelled to care for each other by what they had experienced. During the time she carried his soul, there had been an affinity that commonly turned into sexual awareness. Her willingness and his need made a bond between them inescapable. But the sexual compulsion ended when she'd returned his soul. Caring for each other afterwards was a natural result of the sharing. Their bond created an ongoing harmonic vibration that they both naturally responded to, which explained their awareness of each other's moods. But that was all. This feeling she carried inside for the moody man was her own honest emotions.

The upshot was, she loved him because she wanted to, and he didn't love her because he didn't want to. He actively fought against whatever tender feelings he held for her.

She sighed and scrubbed at her face, pushing her own feelings to the side. She didn't really have time or energy to spend dwelling on this. There was a war going on, and Harry needed her knowledge. Since she was the only person interested in a relationship, it seemed a bit foolish to balk at sacrificing its withered remnants when so much was on the line.

She tossed her parchment onto the desk and got up and walked to her bed. Kicking her shoes off, she laid down and settled herself. She ran through her mental exercises, cleared her mind, and then slowly brought her focus to the connection she shared with Severus. She slid her mind along it, felt the length and breadth of its anchor into her own psyche. With her shields removed, she could feel the echoes of his contentment with whatever he was working on over at Grimmald place, his frustration over something minor that she couldn't identify, and the echoes of anger and shame that she'd come to associate with his infrequent conversations with Dumbledore's portrait.

She focused harder.

Reaching deeper into their connection, she could feel an echo of the warm treacle that she'd felt filling her when she'd held his soul in her heart. Building up her own construct in her mind, she pictured their connection as a warm skein of honey-colored silk. She mentally gathered the strands together and laid them out on a board, arranging the threads neatly. She stroked them, surprised at the pleasure that rebounded to her own senses, and then with a swift chop, she brought her mentally constructed cleaver down on them and severed the connection.

Her concentration was shattered as if she was thrown out of her own mind. She bolted upright on the bed and found herself reaching out, grabbing for something unseen. She shook her head several times and the disorientation slowly passed. She let her thoughts creep slowly towards the connection she'd shared and found nothing. She threw her mind towards that place where Snape's thoughts had always seemed to dwell and found only a few ragged edges that left her feeling uncomfortable when she prodded them. She worried at them like the flap of skin on the roof of her mouth after being scalded.

She finally took a deep breath and blew it out, orienting herself before she scrambled off the bed to jot down notes. Her emotions tried to slip out from under her control but she pushed them into a corner ruthlessly. It would do no good to dwell on the fact that she had just ripped her own heart to shreds. She'd get over it. If there was one thing Oliver had taught her, it was that a broken heart was survivable.

She'd just sat down and picked up her quill when she heard a loud crash downstairs. She jumped up and ran towards the door but stopped when she heard the sound of boots pounding up the stairs. She stepped back into the shadows against the wall and pulled out her wand just as her bedroom door was flung open and Snape exploded into the room. She reflexively threw up her Occlumency shields, but they were no longer needed.

She lowered her wand and stared at him bemused. After months of feeling him always under the surface of her own thoughts, it was odd to have him simply be another body in the room. She had no idea what was going through his mind accept for the obvious panic that was on his face. The panic finally registered in the front of her brain and she stepped forward out of the shadows.

"What's happened? What's wrong?" she cried.

He spun around and saw her, his face reflecting several things at once. Relief, anxiety and fear quickly morphed into fury.

"What the hell did you do?" he shouted. "I thought you were _dead_! You just suddenly disappeared!"

"I severed our connection. I_—_"

"Put it back! Fix it _now_!"

He seemed to flow across the room until he was in her face, and seized her by the arms. Her vision seemed to fill with his dark, frightening eyes and she found herself trying to push him away. He scared her.

"You knew what I was researching! You were the one that said I might skew the results if I informed you!" She turned her face away from the intensity of his anxious expression. "Isn't this what you wanted? We're free." His arms went slack and she stepped out of his hold. "You're free," she said quietly. The emotions she'd held in check throughout the exercise, slipped out of her control and she started to cry. She closed her eyes and turned her back on him, resentful at being forced to show him her weakness.

She felt his hand rest gently on her shoulder, and then he was pulling her slowly into an embrace.

"I'm sorry," he said, in a rough voice. She allowed him to turn her until she leaned forward and pressed her face against his chest. "I was… surprised. I've_—_You've been with me for years, Hermione. Longer than you knew. I wasn't prepared to lose you like that. I'm afraid I didn't think rationally. Of course you did the right thing. I shouldn't have frightened you."

She didn't answer, she just gathered up a fold of his robe in each fist and wept, keeping her jaw clenched against the sobs that tried to escape. She felt foolish and embarrassed and humiliated. She also felt whole, and protected and warm. Cutting their connection hadn't muted her feelings for him at all. That knowledge made her feel even more desolate. Having his arms around her was the most perfect thing in her world. The sound of his still racing heart was soothing and she found herself calmed by his embrace, as if she was surrounded by a soft, warm glow. She felt him settle down as well, listened to his heartbeats slow, his breathing even out. She felt his panic fade as he enjoyed the feeling of holding her in his arms. She knew he liked the way she turned to him for strength and comfort.

Her eyes popped open and she frowned. She mentally reached for their connection and rather than finding a psychic wound, she found a warm golden skein of silken threads almost done knitting themselves back together. She pushed herself out of his arms and dropped her Occlumency shields and watched as he reacted to her exposed emotions.

"What have you done?" she asked in a whisper.

He stared at her, wide-eyed, the panic creeping back, along with mortified confusion. "I didn't… I wasn't…" He backed away. "You must have done something wrong," he said, pulling himself together.

"It was simple enough, once I'd mastered the mental exercises needed. I didn't do it wrong. I severed our connection and it's somehow knit back together after only a few minutes."

He frowned at her and drew himself up to his full height. She could feel his thoughts cut off, sealed up tight behind his shields again, only the echoes leaked out, telling her he was embarrassed and confused. "You obviously had a failure of intent," he said with a sneer.

She narrowed her eyes at him.

"Just because I have feelings for you, doesn't mean I don't want to end this self-torture I've put myself through. I don't enjoy being humiliated, Severus. There was no failure of intent on _my_ part. _I_ wasn't the one unwilling to let go." His eyes lit up with rage, but he held back whatever retort he was going to make. She brushed her hair back off her shoulder and lifted her chin. "If you will excuse me, I have notes to write."

She threw up her own shield, hoping to block as much as she could and went through the motions of ignoring him as she turned away and sat back down at her desk. She felt his eyes on her for a long moment before the creak of the floor said he'd turned and left her room. The door closed with a soft thud.

* * *

"Where are you going?"

Hermione stopped short and looked behind her to see Snape billowing out of the house after her. She could feel his anger.

"I'm headed to Flourish and Blotts," she said. "I lent Harry the Hogwarts copy of the Oxmix book, but I need it as well now. I thought it would be easier if I simply had two copies. Why?"

"You can't just pop off, Granger. I need to be advised of these things. I was asked to protect you. How can I do that if you don't even bother to let me know you have plans." He looked highly agitated and Hermione picked up the waves of trepidation and annoyance that radiated off of him.

"I'm sorry I didn't advise you of my plans, it hadn't occurred to me you would care. No!" She held a hand up to stop his immediate response. "I didn't mean that to be snide; I simply meant I wasn't aware you were under orders to protect me. I'm sorry."

He seemed mollified, but she could tell there was still a churning anxiety in him at the idea of her leaving.

"Is there something I should know? Is there a reason you don't want me to go?"

"Yes," he said in a nasty voice. "There's a war on and you're a target. Can't you get one of the Weasleys to get it for you?"

She planted her fists on her hips and scowled at him.

"Every single Weasley is as much a target as I am, as is Remus, Tonks, and just about anyone else in the Order. Only you and Harry are bigger targets than us. There is no one left who's _not_ a target, Snape. Only your actions before you woke up have been keeping them quiet. They don't know you're sane again, and they're terrified of you for the moment." She crossed her arms over her chest and looked down at the new spring shoots working their way up through the broken pavers of the carriage yard. "I need that book, Severus. My attempt to sever our connection the other day has shown that there is no way Harry can reproduce my attempt without broadcasting his intentions to Voldemort. I need to find a way around that, and Harry needs to continue to read up on the mental exercises. Therefore, we need two copies."

Snape stood and stared at her, his now constant disapproval of her evident in his demeanor.

"When can I expect you back?" he said.

"I shouldn't be longer than an hour."

He stepped back away from her and waved his hand, as if granting permission. "If you are going to be delayed longer than that for any reason, use your medallion. If I don't hear from you, I will alert the entire Order, do you understand?

"Yes, Severus. I understand perfectly. I'm not a child, no matter how much you wish I was."

He pressed his lips together so hard they went bloodless, as his eyes filled with fury. She just closed her eyes and spun away.

* * *

Editing on the fly is soooo much more fun when I can read reviews while I do it!


	15. Fits and Starts

AN: Tippy toes by and quietly sets the chapter down

* * *

Hermione landed in the alley near the bookstore and took a deep breath to calm herself. She took a risk and let go of her Occlumency Shields. As long as her hood was up, no one could make eye contact. She wasn't up to Snape's skill of effortlessly wearing them at all times, and they were a strain. Letting them drop felt like shedding weight.

She pulled her hood farther down over her head and moved out of the alley and onto the busy street full of afternoon shoppers. She hurried to the bookstore sparing a glance and a thought for Snape's tailor as she passed.

Life was so strange. The idea that she would think wistfully about that nasty troll of a tailor, because he had handmade her nasty bastard of a professor's clothes since before she'd been born, was too convoluted to follow with logic, and yet it made perfect sense to her irrational heart.

Why did she still care about him? What exactly was it about Severus Snape that had caught at her heart like a nail snagging a sleeve? Sure he had needed her in the beginning. He'd been utterly dependant on her when his mind had been broken. She had not only grown protective, but she'd found him endearing. However, he'd also been a psychotic butcher at the time, so that wasn't exactly the honeymoon period she should be pointing to.

What she couldn't understand was why she wouldn't let go of her foolish attraction. He _knew_ she still harbored feelings for him. How humiliating was that? How much more humiliation was she going to have to put up with before she finally let go?

And yet she _had _let go, and he was the one that hadn't been happy. However inadvertently he'd done it, he was the one that had restored their bond. Her eyes fluttered shut at the memory of the way he had held her in his arms. There was nothing sexual about it, it could have been a fatherly, or even a brotherly hug, but she'd felt her own soul vibrate with pleasure. She'd found her place, tucked in next to his soul.

And there was the heart of the matter. Hermione couldn't let go of her feelings or her hope because as much of a bastard as the man was, she had seen his soul. She'd been enveloped in its warmth and had carried it as the precious burden that it was. How do you just forget that? Severus Snape was infinitely more caring than he let the world know, and she was the only one who had ever seen it. She wanted that. She wanted to feel him need her, and want her and protect her and love her. She _wanted _him to act on his desire for her.

That was never going to happen.

What she needed to do was disengage her sexual attraction from her feelings for him. They could still be friends, close friends, if she could get her libido out of the damned way. She'd done it with Ron, she could do it again. It was the only compromise possible. They were stuck with each other.

She pushed her way into the bookshop, using the strength of her new resolve, and made her way to the stacks in the back.

She ran her fingers along the spines and took a deep breath to fully capture the smell. She let her breath out in a happy little sigh and set about searching for the Oxmix text.

"I only know one girl who performs that little ritual before she selects a book," said a familiar voice behind her. "Hello, Hermione."

* * *

John Granger was happily working away in the yard, breaking ground in what would be a potions garden. He'd been feeling rather useless and cooped up the last few weeks and when the weather started turning, he'd started to climb the walls. When Snape explained the need for a garden prepared without magic to grow the ingredients needed for all the potions he brewed, it had been a much needed challenge.

Snape had sketched the layout required and John had thrown himself into the task with enthusiasm, pacing off the best section of yard and clearing away the leaves and fallen branches.

He'd worked at it for most of the morning and was growing tired as the afternoon shadows lengthened. He looked over at Snape, working at the other end, rhythmically swinging the double hoe to turn over the loamy earth. He'd only joined in a short while ago, having finished his brewing for the day, and looked like he'd badly needed the chance to swing something heavy.

Snape worked methodically—lift, swing, lift, swing—and it was obvious his thoughts were wandering far afield. John set his own spade down and rolled his shoulders, wiping his brow on his sleeve. He was about to let the other man know he was packing it in for the day, when he saw him stiffen up and turn suddenly, staring off into the distance as he fumbled in his collar for the medallion John knew was there.

John felt his blood grow cold and ran across the ground towards him.

Snape arrested his movement with a confused look on his face and then turned towards John as he drew up next to him. "Who is Oliver Wood to your daughter?" he asked.

* * *

"Oliver!" Hermione blurted out in surprise. She felt a moment of pure panic, as she scanned her surroundings, looking to see who might have overheard him say her name.

"Don't worry. I checked first. I remember what it was like being in public with you."

She straightened up, clutching her text to her chest like a security blanket.

"You look well, Oli," she said. He did. He looked every inch the handsome lad she'd fallen for, all rugged good looks and burly shoulders. He was everything to her once. Now he was Katie Bell's everything, from what she'd heard. When she'd last paid attention.

"Thank you, and you look as pretty as ever," he said, stepping in closer to her. "How are you? I'm surprised to see you here."

"In a bookshop?" she asked, flustered.

"No," he chuckled. "In Diagon Alley. In the Wizarding world. You used to be pretty negative about all things magical towards the end."

"Well, things have changed. It was time to come back," she replied evasively.

"I've missed you, Mi." Her breath caught as she saw the earnest look in his nut-brown eyes. "I still think about you all the time."

"Yes, well," she said, tearing her eyes away and looking at the floor. "I seem to recall it was your idea to leave." She tried not to let her voice sound petulant and hurt, but seeing him again suddenly like this, had left her no chance to build up any defenses.

"I can't say it was the best decision I've ever made," he said sadly. "I'm sorry I hurt you." He reached out and picked up a lock of hair that had escaped her hood and tugged it, letting it go and watching as it sprang back. "So, are you seeing anyone? Have you got another fella?"

* * *

"Oliver Wood? He was her fiancé, or close enough to," John Granger said. "They lived together for a couple of years. He dumped her around the time you would have entered that hospital. Why do you ask? Is something wrong with Hermione?"

Snape looked through him for a moment before he slowly shook his head. "She's run into him," he replied. "I got a flash of her emotion, and needed to know if there was a danger."

"Ah. Well, I better go and tell Helen. If she's run into Oliver, than she's going to need a bit of women talk when she gets back. That boy nearly broke her heart for good."

Snape didn't respond, he just looked off into the distance as if he could see London from the garden.

John picked up his tools and headed towards the shed and put them away. When he came back out, Snape was still standing there like a statue and staring, making the small hairs on John's arms stand up. He walked back over to Snape, somehow expecting to see the lifeless, flat eyes again, but instead he saw a ghost of the glittering malice that had always presaged something terrible.

"Severus? Are you alright?"

Snape turned his head slowly towards John, but his eyes didn't follow, they stayed locked on whatever it was they saw over the horizon. "I'm fine," he replied in a chilling voice.

John Granger nodded and then headed back towards the house, looking back over his shoulder several times, only to see Snape staring.

* * *

Hermione stared at her old lover and was amazed at the emotions suddenly burbling up inside of her. As if time had stopped, she went over all of her memories of her life with Oliver at an almost leisurely pace, seeing for the first time how incompatible they had always been. Sure, there had been good times, and yes she had loved him, but she understood, with a new clarity, how lacking he was. His basic selfishness, which had finally shown itself clearly the day he'd left. She felt again, for just a moment, the absolute crushing pain she'd felt when she'd come home from work to find he'd moved out, and felt a rage begin to fill her, a need to punish him for the hurt he'd caused her. For all the endless nights she'd laid in her empty bed wondering what was wrong with her, why she was so unlovable. It had all been Oliver's fault.

She blinked.

No it hadn't.

Why would she think that? She was the one that had pulled away from the only world he'd understood. He was Pureblood, and the Muggle world confused and scared him. Hermione's ongoing ennui had just started. That hadn't been Oli's fault, that had been Snape's. Her connection to her insane Professor had numbed her ability to feel and ultimately drove Oliver away. _Snape_ had influenced her choices and left her lying alone in bed all those nights. He'd left her just as rudderless and lost as he was for those three years until she'd finally turned her mind to that scroll on the day he's escaped from the hospital. Oli had had nothing to do with any of that.

With that thought, she slammed up her Occlumency shields and her mind cleared. _Snape. _How had he done that? She looked up at Oliver and saw he was waiting expectantly for an answer.

"I'm in a thing. It's very hard to define, but apparently there's possessiveness involved," she said. "Look, it's good to see you, really, but I have to go. It's still not safe to be near me, Oli."

He looked disappointed as they mumbled their awkward good byes, but he gave her a warm smile and opened his arms. She hugged him and accepted his peck on the cheek before she pulled down her hood and hurried to the register.

* * *

Helen and John Granger were sitting at the kitchen table when Snape finally walked in looking like a boy who'd lost his dog.

"Your daughter is on her way home," he said enigmatically.

"Is she upset?" asked Helen. "Can you tell me what she's feeling?"

Snape grimaced and looked down at the floor. "She's angry," he said before leaving the kitchen and heading towards his own rooms.

* * *

"Where is he?" she demanded.

Her mother lifted a finger and pointed towards her and Snape's part of the house, and Hermione turned and stomped off, leaving her parents sitting in the kitchen looking confused and worried.

When she reached the top of the stairs she banged on his door; when no answer was forthcoming, she pulled out her wand.

The door bounced back off the wall and she put up her hand to catch it and slam it behind her as she entered the room.

"What the hell was that?" she bellowed.

Snape was sitting in the chair, away back from his desk, with his elbows on his knees and his head hanging. He didn't respond, but he didn't have to. She felt all the waves of shame and confused anger, along with the intense self-loathing that had actually been missing for a while.

"Put your shields up, I can't think straight with your feelings bouncing around the room," she snapped.

He lifted his head and gave her a look of such anger and resentment her knees buckled and she had to sit down on the bed. "They are up," he said, his voice was flinty.

"What the hell have you done, Snape? How did you reach across all that distance? Why can I read you like an open book now? I can feel you as if you're not just in this room, but back inside my mind again." She looked at the book he had sitting open on his desk. "You strengthened the bond," she whispered. She looked up from the book to his face. "Why?"

"For Potter. We need him to find out if there are any new Horcruxes. You told me to research it when you handed me the book."

"And you didn't let me know, so as to not influence the outcome, correct?"

He made a noncommittal gesture and looked away from her.

"You can't lie to me now, can you?" she whispered. "Why? You seem to have no problems lying to yourself, Severus. You didn't do this for Harry. You had a moment of panic, didn't you? You somehow knew I'd run into my old lover and it set you off didn't it? You can sit there and justify it all you want. Knowing you, by this time tomorrow you will even believe it. But I'm right here, Snape. You can't hide from me. Admit it. You did something utterly foolish because you were scared you might actually lose me, weren't you? You don't want me, but nobody else can have me either? How trite. Why can't you admit you care for me?"

His face filled with rage and he jumped up out of the chair and stood over her. "Give it up, little girl! What you want isn't going to happen! I did it for Potter! I do _everything _for Potter! There's nothing left over for you or your sad little fantasies! Grow up, Hermione!"

She buckled under the sudden force of his hate and anger. _Hate. _He _hated_ her. She could feel it pouring off him like a poisonous gas. She launched herself off the bed and fled the room.

Her mother was standing in the kitchen with her arms open, and either in spite of, or because of, his castigating her immaturity, Hermione ran straight into her mother's hug. She broke down and sobbed, as her mother rubbed at her back.

"He hates me, Mum," she whined piteously.

"No, lamb. He hates himself. There's nothing you can do about that. You can't fix him, Hermione. You can only accept him the way he is, and if that is less than what you need, then you must move on." Her mother hugged her close. "I understand what you see in him, dear, but he's just too broken. I think he wants you to hate _him_, because it would be easier. It's what he understands. This isn't healthy. Even your father doesn't know which of you to be more worried over anymore."

"You're right," Hermione backed away and scrubbed at her face with her sleeve while her mother fussed with her hair. "I need space. I'm going out for a while."

"Where are you going?"

"To find Thrushcross Granger," she replied.

* * *

Hermione Apparated to a cluster of trees next to the cemetery in Haworth. She'd come here with her mother several times as a child and even more as an adult, indulging her love of all things Brontë. She walked among the grave markers for a while and circled the parsonage, before heading away and walking off into the fields beyond, in search of a dream.

She warmed herself with a spell as the evening chill started to settle into her bones, but then lifted it as the long trek began to heat her up. The wind danced around her as she walked, and she constantly scanned the horizon, trying to find something familiar, some landmark from her dream, determined to keep walking until she found it.

She walked for miles, searching the moors in vain as the sun began to sink and her hope began to fade. At the top of a lonely rise she stopped and looked around, tears streaming down her face, as the ache that had been building in her chest burst open and left her with a crippling agony. She bent her head towards the ground and wrapped her arms around herself as she sobbed.

The last rays of the sun were bleeding across the ground when she lifted her head at the sound of footsteps. Irrational hope filled her, as she whirled around. Her heart stopped when she saw him striding towards her with the wind tugging at his hair and cloak. She batted her own hair aside and saw the anguished expression on his face.

"What are you doing?" he demanded, as he neared.

"Mourning something beautiful," she replied. "Why are you here? Why have you followed me?"

He lifted his hand and brushed at his chest. "I can't stand your pain." He came to a stop before her and they stared at each other, their despair and torment swirling around them, defying them to tell whose was whose. He took one final step closer to her and brought his hands up to her face, slowly tilting it as he brought his own head down. His eyes never left hers and she could feel the trepidation and acrimony warring with his desire and his need.

He kissed her.

Her eyes fluttered shut and her heart began to pound in her chest as she kissed him back. She reached up and cupped his face, feeling rough stubble and warmth.

The warmth…

It flowed from him and wrapped around her and she whimpered from the pleasure of it. She felt his own pleasure increase, and knew they had entered into a loop, her emotions spurring on his own, and being magnified in return. His hands tightened on her face and he deepened the kiss, his tongue sliding in and claiming hers. She reveled in the sounds of his rough breathing, the occasional growl made in the back of his throat from his enjoyment of her touch_. 'I like when you touch me.' _She couldn't get enough of him. She slid one hand up into his hair and pushed herself up onto her toes and his own hands left her face and wrapped around her pulling her close. His need overwhelmed them. They both began to shake and the kiss became frantic, desperate. She felt his fingers start to trail up her side towards her breast and she pulled her lips away as she moaned, anticipating the contact.

It never came.

His hand clenched on her ribs, just below her need and he tore his mouth away from her jaw. With a cry, he pushed himself away from her body. She opened her eyes to see him standing before her, his chest laboring for breath and his face full of anguish.

"Is that what you thought you wanted?" he asked in a ragged voice, as his chest heaved.

"Yes!" she breathed.

He shook his head back and forth, his face a mask of despair. "You don't understand," he cried. "It's not! It isn't what you want at all!"

"How can you say that? How can we kiss like that and you still think I don't want you?"

"Because I've corrupted you! My soul has tainted you!" He raised a shaking hand and dragged it through his hair, looking around the darkening moor. "Look at where you ran to, Granger. This isn't the dream. Your dream doesn't exist."

"Why! Why doesn't it exist? Because you don't want it to?"

"Because it's fucking wrong!"

"_Why_?"

"Because I'm too old! Because you're too young. Because I feel like I would be betraying something I've held sacred for so many years. Because the idea of sleeping with one of my students sickens me. Hermione, there are a hundred reasons. It's not us. It's the Soul Magic. I'm not what you really want. I never have been, and I never will be."

"I'm not your student," she said sadly. "I cannot refute many of your other reasons, but I can on that point. I haven't been your student for almost six years now. Tell me, Snape. What had you already lived through by the time you were twenty-four? How much would you have enjoyed constantly being treated like you had no idea what being grown up was like?" She dragged her hair away from her face again before looking at him, shaking her head. "I know you think we've no choice, but you're wrong. If you—"

"I'm not wrong! You just only see what you want to!" He raised a hand as if to try and take back the words, but dropped it again. In a gentle, sad voice he said, "Please, Hermione. Look at this with logic. You will see I'm telling you the truth. This," he waved a hand between them, "this isn't real."

With a final spasm of regret on his face, he stepped back and Disapparated, leaving her alone in the gloom as the mist started to rise around her.

* * *

Hermione entered his lab with a sheaf of notes the next afternoon. His shoulders lifted up as she approached, and she did her best to keep her thoughts calm and neutral, so as not to set him off.

"You need to read my notes," she said, laying them down on the table out of the way. "You proved last night that Harry's link can be strengthened and used to locate either the Dark Lord, or any other pieces of his soul, when you found me. This is something we can exploit. However, you must clear up any erroneous conclusions you've been carrying around first, or your understanding of the situation will be hopelessly corrupted and your usefulness to the project will be nullified."

He turned around and looked at her as she felt his curiosity rise above his defensiveness and his now constant self-flagellation.

"I've cross-referenced the pertinent passages, so you can find the material in the texts easier. I'm leaving now to head over to Grimmauld, I have a meeting with Harry to sketch out our new direction. I would appreciate it if you could read through that material soon, so you can help direct his studies as well. Both you and Harry are far better at Occlumency than I, and it would be better if the two of you worked together."

He turned his head and looked at the stack of parchment for a moment before sliding his eyes back to her.

"I shall give it my full attention as soon as I am through here," he replied.

She nodded and turned and left, before her proximity to him stirred up her emotions and ruined things. It was enough that he agreed to read her notes. Later, they could deal with the implications of what they contained. She knew he would react badly when he was confronted with the evidence that his attraction to her was of his own doing, and not due to any magical compulsion. She hoped she was still gone when he figured it out.

* * *

Hermione was exhausted and hungry when she Apparated back into the carriage yard around midnight. It had been a good session. Harry had done a great job of visualizing his link with Voldemort. He even went so far as to grab up a quill and actually sketch exactly what he saw. He understood the theory behind willingness, and was committed to the idea of embracing the connection for a greater good. There was a lot of work left to do before they could begin to use it, but the day was drawing near. The final confrontation was coming. Everyone could feel it in the air.

She pushed open the door to the kitchen and paused. There was a heavy weight of expectancy in the air. She pulled her wand back out and looked around, not seeing anything that would account for the feeling. She stretched her senses out and found the tiny thread of a connection to Severus and followed it to the source, which was burdened with the usual churning anxiety and self-recrimination. What she also found, mixed in with his feelings was the tiniest glimmer of hope, hidden in with some feelings of academic interest.

So. It was a test, but also something more. She stepped further into the room and whispered, "Lumos." There, under a Stasis Charm, sat a plate of food. Her stomach growled at the sight. She and Harry had been far too busy to stop and eat all night, and seeing the plate of dinner waiting for her made her eyes tear up. She sat down and cancelled the charm. When her eyes fluttered shut at the first mouthful of her mother's roasted chicken, she felt a wave of satisfaction that was not her own.

Not only had she been able to recognize and orient on his magic, she had been able to follow it back to the source, him. This was a most excellent development. It showed that Harry didn't actually have to get that close to the Dark Lord to track him, he just needed to be near something he'd affected with his magic.

Two things had been proven just now. Aside from the successful experiment on their link, there was the plain fact that he'd known she was hungry and had cared enough to do something about it. Had he been angry over what her research clearly showed, he probably would have cheerfully let her starve. She smiled and turned her head towards his room. It was a beginning.

* * *

Why worry about the hassle of sending a gift, when you can just review!


	16. The Danger of Determined Dentists

AN: Hopefully, the rest of this story will make it up today. Let's hope RL cooperates!

* * *

Hermione arrived at the Order meeting early and was immediately pounced on by Harry, who threw his arm around her and hugged her tight.

"It's working! You and Snape are genius!" he said, excitedly, gesturing towards the corner of the room where Severus sat half hidden behind a journal.

"What are you talking about Harry? What's working?"

"I used the link today! It worked perfectly?"

Hermione's eyes widened and she fired off a bunch of panicked questions. "What did you do? Does Riddle know? Is he aware you exploited your connection?"

"No, no, no. It's fine. Snape and I have been experimenting with tracking Riddle's magic. The closest we had to hand were my scar and his Dark Mark. I've been practicing tracking his Mark."

"And you did? That's marvelous, Harry."

He snorted. "I did more than that, Ron and I did a tour of the Ministry today from top to bottom. I managed to single out three Death Eaters, without them knowing. Kingsley has already neutralized two of them. One we've left undisturbed, but Tonks has a tracer on him and is tracking him now. That's what we're celebrating tonight!"

Hermione's smile burst across her face and she threw her arms around her friend. "That's fantastic, Harry! Well done!"

She felt a pulse of satisfaction at her words and turned her head towards Snape, who was ostensibly perusing the journal in his hand. They had been testing the limits and uses of their bond in an effort to better define the parameters for days. Deciding now was as good a time as ever to test a theory, she sent a concentrated burst of pride and admiration through their link and saw his head snap up and his eyes widen. She grinned at him, impishly, before heading to the kitchens to grab a plate of food before the meeting started.

The meeting was upbeat, with Harry's news taking up the most discussion time. She mostly just listened, compulsively taking notes as usual and not really having anything to offer.

"We need to feed You-Know-Who false information," said Ron. "We know he did as much to Harry, but could Harry return the favor?"

"Not directly, no," Snape answered. "The Dark Lord is one of the greatest Legilimens known. There is no way to directly approach his thoughts without getting caught. However, an indirect approach will almost always work. It's possible for Potter to allow the Dark Lord to feel his legitimate emotions on another subject and let him leap to the wrong conclusion. I used to do it all the time, in order to survive."

Hermione lifted her head and looked at Snape.

He felt her regard and flicked his eyes at her before turning away. She could feel his discomfort spiraling higher.

She realized in an instant that he had done the same to her as well. The hatred. That overwhelming, incapacitating hatred she'd felt pouring out of him when she'd cornered him that day was a lie.

She felt a sharp burst of anger and quickly smothered it. They had been working hard to find a neutral ground, since she had made him see his assumptions were false. But it was still a delicate balance. They had a terrible time not recoiling and rebounding off of each other's emotions and having them gain intensity in the process. Becoming angry could quickly turn into a white-hot fury, and this last week they had both been diligent about keeping a lid on their emotional reactions.

When she looked at the situation again with a more calculating eye, she understood and could even admire how deftly he had shunted her aside from the feelings he'd wanted to keep hidden. Cunning bastard. He was such a mess, but he was still incredibly good at manipulating mind games. It would be more admirable if her mind wasn't the ball being bounced off the pavement.

She pushed the thoughts away. It did no good to dwell and she much preferred the tentative friendship they were building.

They both understood that this fragile armistice they had found was completely dependent on not discussing the elephant in the room. As long as they both maintained the fiction that he had never kissed her, and she had never heard him admit that he found her more disturbing than attractive, then everything was fine.

She'd spent a lot of energy these last few days trying to convince herself that a nice friendly mentorship was enough, and he had been left to analyze his feelings for her in a new light of understanding.

She knew he was spending a lot of time thinking about her. More and more she would feel his attention on her and turn, expecting to see him, only to find he was off in another part of the house. She had tried to eavesdrop, tried to use their strengthened connection to tap into his actual thoughts, only to have him catch her each and every time. He had developed an ability to leap through several thoughts at once, creating a psychic static that left her dizzy and annoyed. Twice she'd heard him chuckle in the next room when she'd had to grab a chair to steady herself. Of course, they had promptly taught Harry these things, after all, it was all in the name of research.

A casual statement brought her head up sharply. "I'm sorry, Ron. I didn't catch that. Say it again?"

"I think it's time to cut your connection with Snape, here. We have reams of information on how to exploit the link, but we need more information on how to separate them. We've got a good working plan on how to attack You-Know, now. We need to start concentrating on how to get Harry through this alive."

Hermione felt a flutter of panic overwhelm her and wasn't sure whose it was. She tried to keep her face neutral as she turned to Severus, who looked believably impassive to anyone who couldn't feel his emotions.

"What do you think?" she asked him.

"I agree," he said, and she had to steady herself against the wave of regret that poured out of him. "If it will benefit Potter, then it is the right thing to do."

"Alright," she replied in a shaky voice.

"I don't think you should cut it completely yet," Dumbledore's portrait put in. "Perhaps if the two of you reduced the connection down to what Tom and Harry currently share, then we would have a better idea of what needs to be done to insulate Harry."

"Agreed," said Severus.

Hermione almost sagged with relief. She knew a day would come when they would separate, but she'd thought she would have more time. This half-step would at least give her a chance to come to terms with it.

"Mr. Potter, I will need to access your mind in order to figure out how to replicate the strength of your connection to the Dark Lord."

"We can do that now, if you like," Harry said. At a nod from Snape, the two of them left the room to find privacy in the library.

She watched Snape leave the room, feeling the sadness trailing off of him like streamers, as Fred sank down onto the couch next to her.

"This is going to be weird for you, isn't it? I mean, I know I would go spare if someone was to tamper with the connection George and I share. It's not exactly the same, what you have and what magical twins share, but me and George have been thinking it's got to be a lot like, you know?"

"I can only guess, but yeah. This is going to be hard. We already tried to sever the connection once, and it didn't really go so well. It only lasted about five minutes."

"I bet it was a long five minutes though."

She didn't answer him, she just nodded and turned her head towards the Library above them where she could feel Severus's sense of duty, overruling his other thoughts. She pictured that obnoxious younger Snape and sneered.

Time seemed to stretch, as people headed in different directions now that the meeting had broken up. She felt the sofa lurch and looked down to see George was now sitting on the other side of her, acting casual, but far too alert to pull it off. She wanted to thank them for their concern, but she found her entire being was centered on these last few moments of her unfiltered connection to her professor.

Fred, George and Dumbledore's portrait were looking at her with concern when it happened. She felt his resolve, his sense of duty, she felt his utter willingness, and projected her own back at him. In the last instant, she was buffeted by his absolute grief before it was snuffed like a candle.

She gasped and tried to leap up off the couch but Fred pulled her back down and she threw herself onto his shoulder and cried as George rubbed her back.

"There now, it's done. It's not completely gone, is it?" said George. "You just need to adjust a bit, that's all."

She reached for the connection and felt the ragged psychic wound. She pulled away from it, fearing she would accidentally reconnect it the way he had that day in her room. It was done. At least now they were safe from influencing each other's emotions until they were both irrational.

She pushed away from Fred and took the handkerchief he pressed into her hand.

"You and Snape have been through a lot together," said Fred. "You two will stay friends, even without finishing each other's thoughts. I'm thinking he's a pretty handy friend to have, too." She gave him what she knew was a weak smile. "Go on, there's a girl." She mopped at her face and thanked them both, pulling out her wand and drying Fred's jumper and cleaning the handkerchief.

"Miss Granger, are you ready to leave?"

Her head whipped around and she saw him standing in the doorway looking calm and collected.

"I was going to head back to Oak Court now," he continued, "and was wondering if you were planning on leaving soon as well."

"Yes," she said. "I'm ready now." She turned and handed Fred back his handkerchief. Thank you, both of you." They just nodded to her and watched as she headed over to Severus and followed him out the door.

Once on the doorstep, he gently took her elbow. "Perhaps it's best if we travel together, unless you think you're calm enough not to splinch yourself?"

She shook her head and stepped closer to him, and he pulled her gently against his chest before he spun them away.

They stayed standing like that for a moment in the carriage yard. When the moment had stretched too far and too thin, he broke the silence.

"It was… a bit sudden," he said. "But it was for the best, Hermione. We both needed privacy."

She nodded her head and pushed away. "And you needed to stop taking that damned Sleeping Draught every night. It's unhealthy." She snorted when she saw his raised eyebrow. "There was no other explanation for why weren't invading each other's dreams after you strengthened the connection." She pulled her hair back out of her face and turned towards the front door as he fell into step next to her.

"Do you think it will last this time?" she asked.

"We were both willing," he said. "Last time… I admit I panicked." He stopped and turned to her. "I've been alone for my entire life, Hermione. Although I am cognizant of the damage I have done to you, for no other reason than because of a paper you wrote when you were a school girl, I freely admit that I have drawn," he paused, searching for the right words, "_comfort_ in knowing you were only a thought away. I have to confess to a certain reluctance toward the idea of being alone again."

"You're not alone now," she said. "We're still connected, albeit in a greatly reduced capacity. And when that's gone, I will still be here, Severus." She looked him deep in his eyes, willing him to understand her. "As a friend. You never have to be alone again. We will always share a bond."

He looked at her and then his lips quirked up into a crooked smile before he turned and gestured for her to precede him in the door.

* * *

"It's not working!" she said.

"It _will _work; the emotions need to be more intense! Go back out there and try again," he snapped back.

She growled and stomped back out into the kitchen and sat down hard in the chair as he slammed the door to the lab.

"What the devil is going on?" asked Helen Granger as she entered the kitchen with her husband. "We could hear you two yelling from our bedroom."

"We're trying to recreate Harry and Riddle's connection," Hermione said. "We severed most of our connection last night so we could recreate the conditions Harry lives with for further research."

"And?"

"We can't connect. I think he severed the link completely," she turned her head towards the potions lab and raised her voice, "because he's an incompetent prat who couldn't wait until he researched what he was doing!"

The door to his lab flew open. "Granger, it does no good if I can bloody well hear you, now does it?" he shouted from the doorway. "Use your mind! Or did I sever your connection to that as well?"

"Put up a damned Silencing Charm, you git!"

Hermione's parents just stared at the two of them.

"I think you two need to rest for a bit. Breakfast?"

Hermione and Severus stared at each other for a full minute before they both shrugged and looked away.

"Yes, Mum, that would be lovely."

"Indeed. Do you need assistance?" asked Snape.

The food was on the table without much fuss, with four of them pitching in.

"So what do you think is the problem?" asked Mrs. Granger as she passed around the plate of eggs.

"I'm not sure," answered Hermione. "Harry's connection with Riddle was always at its strongest either when Harry was under a lot of stress, or when the Dark Lord was very emotional, usually enraged. We've not been able to recreate emotions strong enough for the other to register."

"Well, then, that explains exactly why you're failing," Mr. Granger said. Snape and Hermione both stopped eating and looked up. "Well, it's obvious. You're having too much fun. We could hear you, you know. That wasn't an argument; that was playing. You two have been stuck in each other's heads for so long you were afraid to voice an opinion without it stirring up eleven different emotions. Now you're both like children who just learned how to swear. I wouldn't worry about it. When you're done playing, you'll be fine."

Hermione looked over at Snape who was staring at his eggs as if he'd never seen them before.

"Your theory might have some merit," she said.

Snape cleared his throat. "It's a possibility," he said, before taking a bite of melon.

After breakfast they continued, but with no more success than before. No matter how provocative they were with each other, neither one could push the other into an emotional state strong enough for the other to pick up on.

"I think we've been making a fundamental error," he said that afternoon, after they'd finally taken a break for lunch. "We've been trying to recreate the dynamic Potter and the Dark Lord share, so we've been trying to cause each other enough negative stress to produce a negative emotion."

"But we don't have the same sort of connection," said Hermione. "I see where you're going. Harry's Horcrux is a result of evil. Yours wasn't."

Snape turned his head and stared at her. "You have an interesting memory. In fact, mine was created from evil too, Hermione. I just chose not to embrace the evil after the deed. The deed itself was still evil."

"A necessary evil and a temporary one at that, and—don't forget your Sprague—one that I willingly embraced, along with the good."

"Regardless of your delusions," he said dismissively, "our basic problem is that I do not, in fact, want to kill you, and you, sadly, are not actually terrified of me."

"What if we switched roles?" she said with an impish laugh. "I'm not sure about actually wanting to kill you, this week, but I do know for a fact that all I have to do to terrify you is tell you I think you have an incredibly sexy arse."

Hermione had taken a risk. Bringing up even an echo of that touchy subject was to run the chance of ruining what friendship they had managed to work out, but they needed emotions and that was the one button to push that was guaranteed to produce them.

Snape's eyes glittered as he stared at her. She could see a thousand comments, questions, and rejoinders already lining up in his head, and just watched them all parade across his features in silence. He could have made his face an expressionless mask to better hide his thoughts, but he didn't. She tried to understand them without the crutch of the link, but she couldn't.

She sighed in defeat and dropped her head. "Nothing," she said. "I felt nothing."

"That was a worthy effort," he said, in a dry voice.

She looked back up at him and smiled wryly, in acknowledgement of a rare compliment.

"I can't tell if this makes me happy or not," she said finally. She reached out and pressed the pad of her finger against the crease between his brows. "I don't like not knowing what puts this line on your face, but I have to say that I do enjoy a good mystery." She stroked his nose lightly before pulling her hand back. "And the privacy is nice too." She stood up and rolled her arm to work out the stiffness. "I'm going to take a bath. We'll try again later."

He nodded but held his silence as he watched her walk out of the kitchen.

* * *

"Are you sure this is the right thing to do?" John Granger asked for the third time. "I think we should leave well enough alone."

"Nonsense, they've been going at it for three days. They need help, and I know this will work," Helen replied blithely. "How many did we find again?"

"Four," replied Arthur.

"We had a rat for a familiar for years, I don't remember her having any issues," said Molly.

"That's because she wasn't afraid of them until your rat turned out to be a Death Eater. Now she can't abide them," Helen replied.

"Have I ever told you that you are a very unnatural mother?" John said, holding the cage.

"Yes, dear. You've been saying that for twenty-four years, go ahead and let them go and I'll close the door. Hurry, she should be along soon. Molly, be a dear and put up that Silencing Charm right here, it won't do for him to hear her scream."

Arthur and John released the rats they'd collected in the woods into the cupboard, and Helen slammed the door on them while Molly put up the spell. They heard footsteps coming down the hall and they all scurried about trying to look natural.

"Little Daisy is cutting another tooth," Molly said as Hermione walked into the kitchen. "She's been keeping Ron and Lavender up all night for days. Lavender won't use the potion I gave her, she says there's an article in Witch Weekly that shows it to be dangerous. I ask you, which of my children turned out wrong because I wouldn't let them suffer for a tooth?" She turned her head to the younger woman. "Be a dear and grab me a tablecloth, Hermione? Anyway, as I was saying, these young mothers today have all the answers now. It's amazing our children survived, what with how ignorant we obviously were—"

Molly's improvisational tirade was cut off, not by the terrified scream that they could see but couldn't actually hear, but by the deafening crack of an in-house Apparition.

Severus appeared in the middle of the kitchen, shoeless and in his shirtsleeves, gripping his wand. From the pillow marks on his face and the way his tangled hair stood up on one side, it was obvious he had been napping when Hermione found the rats in the cupboard.

Dishes clattered to the floor, and one pot fell from the rack above the sink, from the force unleashed by his sudden appearance.

Helen Granger beamed at her husband as Snape snatched her daughter away from the door and pulled her up against him. Hermione wrapped her arms around him like a vine and squealed, as he stunned the rats and turned a confused and angry eye on the other occupants of the room to see if they needed to be stunned as well.

"I told you it would work!" Helen said, clapping her hands excitedly.

"Yes, dear, you did, and now I think we're in a spot of trouble," John said, as Molly and Arthur backed away from them.

"You did that on purpose?" Hermione came out from under Severus's arm.

"Yes! And it worked! He felt you, didn't he?"

"You put rats in the cupboard on _purpose_?"

"Don't be silly. Your father did, I just slammed the door."

John Granger blanched as Snape turned his furious gaze on him. "It was her idea," he said, betraying his wife, while stepping in front of her and puffing out his chest.

Hermione stared at her parents in shock for a long moment and then let out a peel of laughter. "I keep wanting to say 'I can't believe you did that,' but it would be a lie." She turned to Snape. "Well, it did work. You did feel my emotion."

"Obviously," he sneered, finally slipping his wand back into his pocket. "Now, if you don't mind, I will go and prepare myself for dinner."

Helen peeked out from behind her husband and watched Severus, as he muttered his way back out of the kitchen. She smiled with pride.

"I knew it would work," she said. "If there was any connection left between you, then a primal emotion would trigger it. What do you think he's afraid of?"

"Mum, if you want to live to see old age, please don't try to scare Severus. You've been a great help. Just take your victory and bow out gracefully, now."

"Oh, alright."

"You do realize that is I ever open that cupboard again it will be to Incendio everything in it, don't you?"

"Yes, dear. That's why I took everything out of it first. Hermione? Are you alright?" She hurried over to where her daughter was now leaning slightly and gripping the back of a chair.

"I'm fine. Severus was just testing the connection again. He's furious and thought I should know."

"Oh dear," said Molly.

* * *

Hermione stripped out of her clothes and dragged a fresh t-shirt over her head before sliding into bed. She shut off the light and stared out the window at the moonlit trees. Over all, it had been a good day. After dinner, she and Severus had been able to project their emotions and even false images to each other, rapidly making up for lost time. It was as if there had been a clog in the pipe and her mother's antics had cleared it. Now they could get down to the business of understanding what exactly Harry would need to do.

She rolled over, wishing again that Crooks hadn't abandoned her for her parents. She disliked sleeping alone. Her restless thoughts turned to the man in the next room and once again she felt relief that the constant pressure, the constant guarding of her every thought and feeling was gone. She could think about him and know her thoughts were safe. It was rather liberating. She had spent time testing the limits this evening and had found none. She'd stared at his long, hooked nose, his chiseled jaw, and his fine cheekbones and he hadn't detected a thing until she actually pushed a thought at him.

She knew he was doing the same thing, exploring the newfound freedom of inside his mind. She'd seem him looking at her and couldn't decipher what was going through his mind, but had her suspicions when he would suddenly leave the room with some flimsy excuse or another.

She closed her eyes and remembered what it felt like to have him grab her and pull her tight against his body, as he saved her from the rats. Oh yes, as blind with terror as she'd been, she hadn't lost her sense of touch, or smell. Severus had felt good, and he smelled divine.

Hermione sighed and allowed herself to do something she hadn't done in ages, not since she'd realized they were mentally linked. She slipped a hand into her knickers and played with herself.

At first she just let her mind wander over the aspects of Severus that she found attractive, but soon enough her mind was replaying the memory of him actually slipping inside of her, filling her, taking what he needed from her. She moaned quietly into her pillow. She replayed the kiss they shared on the moor, the way his passion had slipped out of his control. Her breast ached, still waiting for his hand. She brought her own up and cupped it, but it wasn't enough, wasn't the same. She needed his touch. She needed him. Her fingers were now dancing quickly between her legs. She felt an incredible rush of desire, and an escalation of passion that was beyond her doing and her breath hissed out in a long, slow exhalation as the need within her intensified, redoubled, rebounded and was joined.

Her eyes flew open when she heard a creak outside in the hall. She could see the shadow of his feet under the door. She pulsed and groaned. He was right there. She willed him to open the door, she stuffed her own fingers inside herself and bit her pillow, desperate for him to come and filled her. She heard the turning of the door knob but it didn't open.

Suddenly her mind filled, not with the echo of his own desire, but with his shame. His hand left the door and the floor creaked as he moved away. She heard his bedroom door slam shut and snatched her hands away from herself in humiliation as tears sprang into her eyes.

She'd forgotten. Sex increased the connection. How could she have forgotten? Wasn't she the current authority on Soul magic? How incredibly stupid could she be? She gathered up her feelings of embarrassment with an apology and sent them through their connection.

Her pillow was soaked with her tears before she felt his reply, a tentative acceptance and tacit forgiveness, along with an abject apology of his own.

Hermione cut off the connection and cried quietly into her pillow.

* * *

Traveler, plz tell me you are not the one driving!

In other news: Can someone please come feed my family? Starving waifs are dreadfully distracting…


	17. All the Cards Laid Out

AN: Fav Chap. Yup. This one right here.

* * *

Despite an overwhelming urge to spend the rest of her life under a rock, Hermione did actually leave her bedroom the next day. The air was thick with tension at breakfast and both her mother and her father picked up on it.

Hermione ate so fast she gave herself a stomachache, before she jumped up from the table and announced she would be spending the day at Grimmauld, working with Ginny and Harry. Snape merely nodded to his tea.

She grabbed up her notes from last night, dashed out into the yard and vanished.

Once she was at Grimmauld, she felt much better. She spent an hour simply playing with little Lily and James and gossiping with Ginny while she did a few helpful chores around the house. Fred and George popped in and added to the happy chaos.

"So how are things with you and Snape?" Fred asked, as they watched George pretend to be a dragon.

"Good. It took us a few days to figure out how to work with our limited connection, but we got it sorted."

"From what I heard from Dad, you had a bit of help with that."

Hermione blushed and slapped him lightly on his arm. "Do not bring that up again. I'm still a bit freaked out about it."

He laughed and turned back, as his twin was pretending to be disemboweled by James' pretend hex.

"Fred, I was wondering if you would let me explore the connection between you and George a bit, for my research."

"Yeah? What do you have in mind?" he asked, as George rolled up off the floor and walked over to them.

"It's just something I thought about when I couldn't sleep last night," she answered.

* * *

Snape was out working in the garden when John Granger walked up, swinging a pickaxe.

"How's it look?"

"I would say that a bit more work amending the soil and we'll be ready to plant," said Snape.

"Excellent," said Mr. Granger, a little too jovially. "Excellent. I've enjoyed working out here."

"You've done a commendable job."

"I have, haven't I? I think I've done a good job of gardening. I've also done a good job of parenting, if I say so myself."

Snape eyed the man, obviously caught short by the sudden change in topic.

"Your daughter is a rather remarkable person. I'm sure you are justifiably proud."

"Oh, I am. Very proud. And protective too. Sure, I understand that in her world, I must come across as pretty powerless and insignificant. After all, I'm just a Muggle. Next to a powerful wizard, say, like yourself, one would think it foolish to even bother to make a threat."

"Why am I sensing a threat of forthcoming anyway?" said Snape with a raised eyebrow and a look of amusement.

"Because you're a smart man," said Mr. Granger, swinging the pickaxe at the ground with a thump. "My daughter cares for you, Snape. Now, I respect you, and my wife is rather fond of you. In fact, we've both become rather protective of you as well. But I didn't like what I saw at the table this morning. Whatever went on between you, it was obvious that my daughter was humiliated. I've already had to watch Hermione's life implode once because of some bloke. And I've had to watch her go through hell trying to save you. I'm done standing by and watching my daughter be hurt. I understand things are complicated between the two of you, and I'm cognizant of your reservations. Indeed, I respect that. But it's obvious my daughter is in love with you. So I think it's time we had an understanding. If you don't care for my daughter, then you had better find a new place to stay. If you _do_ care for my daughter, then you had better get your head on straight. And if you are simply toying with my daughter, well then, sonny, you better find a place to hide. I know I'm only a Muggle, and I know I've got a handful of years up on you and I'm a little bit out of shape, but a father will do what a father must. Do we have an understanding?"

Snape just stared at the man with no expression on his face at all. "I think we do," he said after a moment.

"Good. Now I have several bags of mushroom compost over by the shed, let's get that into the soil first and then we can work in the manure Arthur brought me yesterday."

Snape blinked several times before he shook his head slightly and walked over to the shed, muttering about being surrounded by bloody Gryffindors, while the other man gulped in a few deep breaths.

John Granger looked over at the kitchen window, where his wife was standing, beaming proudly at him. He nodded to her, feeling like John Wayne.

* * *

Hermione burst into the kitchen and hugged her mother before swirling in a circle and crowing her excitement to the rest of the room.

"Bad day?" Snape drawled as he tossed down his cards in disgust and watched her father drag more chips over to his side of the table.

Hermione bounced over to them and then stopped when she saw how uneven the stakes were. "Dad, are you cheating? Or did Severus start you with a handicap?"

"I'm cheating! And it's working great!"

Snape threw down the deck he had been shuffling in disgust and muttered, "I knew it."

Hermione watched as her father puffed out his chest and made a grand production out of stacking his chips, while cackling with glee.

"Well?" she asked. "Are you going to share your secret? You always confess when you've found a new way to cheat."

"I've used his own assumptions against him! It's his fault he underestimated me, isn't it? I remembered you told me not to look into his eyes. Well, I've been listening to what you both have been saying about planting false images so I decided to put it to good use! Every time I looked at him, the poor sod tried to cheat and read my mind, but I kept lying in my head. If I had good cards, I pictured bad cards, if I had bad cards, I pictured good cards. Once I started taking the pot over and over, I didn't even need to lie; I had him on tilt. The rest was like taking candy from a baby."

Severus sat back in his chair with his arms crossed over his chest and scowled.

"That was brilliant, Dad. What made you think of it?"

"Oh it was your mum's idea. He called us Gryffindors today, so we thought we'd try our hand at slithering."

"_Slytherin_," Snape said, with disgust.

"Yes, well, a Slytherin would never admit to cheating at cards, never mind give away how they did it, Dad. So you'll need to work on that."

"Right, right, whatever. Tell us, what has you bursting in the door so excited?"

"I've discovered something new about the links!" She turned to Severus and patted him on the shoulder. "You'll like it, it's about cheating too."

"Go on," he drawled.

"The other night, Fred said that he and George were connected by a bond similar to our Soul bond. I got to thinking about it and thought they might be useful for research as well. And they were! I spent all day exploring their bond and it worked, every time! Okay, not the first time, but I was too clumsy. You will be so much better at it than I am."

"Hermione," said Snape, rubbing at his temple. "When do we get to the part where I understand what you are talking about?"

"I know, right? I'm babbling. I've been babbling since Harry took over and did it as well!"

"Dear," said her mother. "Be nice to Severus."

"Okay, here's what I did. I used Legilimency on Fred, entered George's mind through their link, and eavesdropped on George's private thoughts! Which were gross, but then he knew I was coming, so what did I expect?"

Severus rose from the table.

"And you said Potter could do this as well?

"Yes! We did a double blind. We didn't tell Fred Harry had even come home, so when Harry entered George's mind to get at Fred, Fred wasn't expecting it. Especially since I was standing there talking to him at the time. He never felt a thing! He never knew until Harry told him what he'd been thinking about!" She launched into a happy dance before she reached out and grabbed Snape's hands in her own. "It was like watching the telly! No emotional connection, just flickering images and the occasional words as they talk to themselves. Do you realize what this means?"

"Indeed. This is very clever, Hermione. You should be very proud of yourself."

"What is so clever? Your mum and I need a bit more information," her father said.

She opened her mouth to answer her father but something about the way Snape looked at her gave her pause and she found herself becoming self-conscious under his stare. She let go of his hands and smiled at him before turning to her father.

"Once I show Severus the technique, he will be able to enter Harry's mind to spy on the Dark Lord."

"That's marvelous!" said her mother. "This calls for a celebration! How about Chinese? We haven't had it in ages, and I think it carries a bit of symbolism, don't you?"

* * *

The long dry spell of Death Eater activity came to a tragic end, the next Monday morning, when a Muggleborn Ministry employee arrived at work under an Imperious and set about killing all of his colleagues in the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes. Tuesday, another Muggleborn showed up under the same spell, but was taken down by Aurors after only one more fatality. Wednesday, the Government closed after two more employees, this time a Half-blood and a Pureblood were discovered—mercifully, before they had time to do anything more than act suspicious to their paranoid coworkers.

The Dark Lord had declared war by Imperioed proxy.

* * *

Grimmauld Place was packed and bustling with activity as plans were set into motion and safe houses were packed full of frightened people. Hermione offered up Oak Court, it had a lot more room than four people needed, but Dumbledore vetoed the idea, citing the need to keep Snape's sanity a secret from anyone outside of the Order.

Harry and Snape were now constantly closeted upstairs in a spare bedroom alone, with Ron running reports down to Kingsley on what they had discovered in Tom Riddle's mind.

After three days, the tide had turned a bit. Due to Snape's listening in on the Dark Lord's thoughts and conversations, twenty Death Eaters had been rounded up, or otherwise taken out of action. Tonks had been injured in a fight in Hogsmead and Minerva and shut down all outside access to the school to protect the students. Remus was out with his pack almost constantly, searching down the one Horcrux Harry had identified as having been made in the last two years. Once that one was eliminated, then they would neutralize Harry's and go after the Dark Lord himself in a final battle that would decide the fate of the Wizarding World.

Hermione had begun training Ginny in how to isolate and remove the Horcrux from Harry, in case they needed a back up person to do it. With her husband's life in the line, Ginny took her studies seriously and had practically mastered the needed spell already.

It had been a grueling week.

Hermione sat down hard in the chair at the kitchen table and sighed. Her mother placed a cup of tea before her and sat next to her.

"I feel so useless now, Mum."

"Oh, trust me, love. I know how you feel."

She leaned her head against her mother's and squeezed her hand. "I know you do. But you and Dad have been a great help, you know. None of this would have been possible if you hadn't allowed Severus in the house that night I first brought him home. If you hadn't had faith in me, I wouldn't have been able to bring him back. If he hadn't been restored, the Dark Lord wouldn't be foaming at the mouth in rage wondering who the spy in his organization is. I think he's killed more Death Eaters in the last week than Severus managed to take out in five years."

"How is Severus holding up?"

"I don't know. He nearly looks like a zombie again; his mind has been ground down. Harry too. Neither of them have had a decent night's sleep or a decent meal in days. I saw him just before I left. He looked so lost, Mum. I gave him a hug, but I don't think he knew how to deal with that. He just stared at me like he'd never seen me before."

"Well, you're looking a bit done in yourself, dear. Finish that cuppa and get yourself to bed."

"I will. I'm just going to make a cup up for Severus and a bite to eat and leave it out for whenever he comes home."

"I'm sure that will mean the world to him when he sees it."

* * *

Hermione woke up in the middle of the night with a gasp. She licked the sweat off her lip and opened her eyes, looking around the room for the mystery lover who had been ravishing her body in her dream. A bleary-eyed glance at her clock showed it was almost four in the morning. She pulled her blankets back up over her shoulder and tried to dive back to sleep and recapture the dream. A wave of sensual pleasure rippled across her body and centered between her legs and she popped her eyes back open.

Another wave of erotic bliss forced her breath out in a long, low rasp that was matched by the muffled groan from the other side of the wall.

Oh gods… Was he dreaming? Was he awake? She bit her lip as she pushed the blankets off herself and quietly left her bed. She made it to the door before she had to hold herself up by the wall as she suddenly danced just at the edge of completion, before the wave receded again and left her wanting more. He was dreaming about her. Images assailed her that took her breath away, as she received a very vivid idea of just what he wanted to do with her.

She padded silently out of her room and down the hall. She was just going to peek. If he was still asleep, she would stagger back to her own room. She turned the door handle quietly and pushed his door open without drawing a breath. She sucked in air when she saw him sprawled in bed naked and only half under his blanket with his knees up and his head thrown back. His hair looked like shadows and ink spilled across his pillow as he worked himself under the blanket. He let out a soft groan and she swayed on her feet and let her breath back out in her own answering moan.

He turned his head and saw her and froze, their connection cut off with an almost audible pop. She took one step backward, but then when she saw the look of desperation on his face, she moved forward again.

She gave him a shy smile and pushed her own heightened arousal towards him through the link. Grabbing the hem of her t-shirt, she paused. "Tell me to leave and I will," she said.

He didn't answer. Instead she felt a wave of desire overwhelmed her as he fully opened his connection to her. She started to slide her shirt up slowly and his hands started to move again under the blankets. She pulled the shirt over her head and exposed herself to his gaze. He shifted to the side and pulled down the corner of the blanket as he looked into her eyes and welcomed her to his bed.

She pushed her knickers down until gravity took over and stepped out of them before walking over and climbing under the blankets with him.

He rose up on one elbow and slowly surged down on her like a wave when he kissed her, and she felt herself nearly dragged away in the undertow. With the connection open, his kisses burned her, scorching her soul as he finally released what she had wanted for so long. Their tongues tangled and fought, and when his hand found her breast she pulled away and cried out. His head disappeared and his mouth replaced his hand. He made love to her breasts, kissing them and suckling them and pulling on her nipples with his lips. The rasp of his unshaven cheeks sent shocking waves of pleasure to her brain. She ran her hands over him, remembering how he liked to be touched. She caressed his lean muscles and ran her hands down his flanks, trying to reach every inch of him at once. She brought her hands back up along his chest and groaned.

His hand slowly circled down between her legs and when he found how wet she was for him he growled. She tugged on him, pulling him up, trying to urge him to where she wanted him, but he resisted her until he had explored her folds to his own contentment. Then he pushed himself back up the bed and claimed her with another kiss.

He rose up over her as she spread her legs and with one hand guiding him, he sank into her.

"Oh, gods, _Hermione_!" he cried out.

Her mouth dropped open as she squirmed under him. Their mutual pleasure was expanded by their connection until it reached an almost frightening intensity. She felt him slide back out of her and then shove himself back in with a growl. She locked her legs around him and urged him on, deeper, faster, harder, as she felt her climax starting a slow climb.

She opened her eyes and the moonlight revealed a dark god above her, his face twisted into a beautiful torment, his hair flying as he rocked into her. He pulled back and hooked one of her legs around his elbow and she cried out as he pummeled her from a new angle that hit the bundle of nerves deep inside. His breathing caught and then resumed with greater intensity as he threw his head back and moaned. He fucked her with abandon and her own voice began to climb as she reached her peak. His hand slid down her leg and his thumb landed on her nub and flicked back and forth as she began to come apart under him. He hissed and cursed and howled and they blew apart together, their pleasure redoubling under the influence of the other.

Hermione gave a shout as her body was once again filled with the warm, thick treacle that was his soul and her own soul responded by surging into him. Severus screamed as the last waves of pleasure were filtered through their soul bond, and then he collapsed down on top of her, shaking violently.

Hermione struggled to stay conscious after her explosive climax. She cradled Severus to her, rubbing his back and murmuring soothing noises and as she tried to blink the floating sparkles out of her eyes. He shuddered and shook in her arms and she lifted her head and began to push at his hair to find his face. Their connection was closed and she was too exhausted to try and open it. She heard a sharp intake of breath and froze as she felt a new wave of shaking overtake him.

"Severus?"

She finally cleared his hair out of his face and she saw he was crying. His face was warped into a spasm of sadness and he tried to remain silent as the wracking sobs tore through him. She urged him off of her, so she could better comfort him, but instead of laying his head on her shoulder, he turned away and curled up into a ball, burying his face in his knees.

"Severus? Tell me… How can I help?"

He flinched and pressed his face into the mattress.

"What do you need?" she asked quietly as she draped herself along the curve of his spine and tried to make him feel loved.

"I am so sorry," he said. His voice came out in a rasp. "I didn't want this."

Hermione's eyes flew open and she felt like she'd been punched in the gut. She lifted her head and stared at him, hoping she was mishearing his words.

"I never wanted this," he said.

She was actually almost too tired to be angry. Her body and her emotions were so drained by the sex that she really had little energy to be hurt, yet she was. She pulled her arms back and peeled away from him. Her lips started to quiver as the shock subsided and _there_, there was her anger.

Gods, everything they had been through. Everything they had done for each other. Everything they had shared and every little secret they had both been privy to, and he _still_ didn't want her. The magic had left him physically enthralled, the way it had intensified exponentially under the other's influence, but once it had passed, he was back to feeling disgusted by his desire for her. She couldn't go on like this. She rolled off the bed and onto the floor.

"I'm done," she said. "I think you should move to Grimmauld. It's clear we can't stay in the same house."

His head snapped up and he looked at her in confusion, then he uncoiled and reached out to her, but she scrambled out of reach as she snatched up her shirt and pants. He flailed after her. "Wait! Let me explain! I never—"

"I _KNOW_! I get that now! I finally heard you, loud and clear!" she cried. "I'm sorry I've been so fucking stupid. I'm sorry I couldn't seem to respect your wishes. I'm fucking sorry, alright?"

"Hermione—"

He made to get out of bed but she snapped. She didn't want to talk to him anymore. She didn't want the gentle set down. She couldn't abide his fucking self-pity, either. She opened her connection and rammed through everything she felt, all of her humiliations, all of her panic, her worry, her fears for him when he was gone, her joy at finding him sitting outside that Chinese restaurant all those months ago. She saw him stagger and grab his head as she blasted him with what it had felt like to carry his soul, and the memory of the pain she'd suffered giving it back. In the end she sent wave after wave of all of her feelings after each time they'd had sex. How again, and again she'd ended up feeling like she had assaulted him, but none as bad as this last time. She poured her fury and her rage and her shame and her remorse, and apology into one last final barrage of feelings she forced through the connection, and then she severed it. Completely. She staggered back a bit in a physical recoil as the mental construct snapped. There would be no second time. If the man wanted to dream of getting laid, her sleep would be undisturbed. She was done with him.

She turned and left the room, while he cried into his hands behind her.

* * *

Hermione watched the sun come up through the curtains on the bathroom window and she still didn't make a move to come out of the tub. She had finally cried herself out behind her Silencing Charm, and now she just languished in her tepid water staring at her pruned toes and wondering why she was so unlovable. Obviously, she made a good friend, after all, she had more people who loved her as a sister or an aunt or a daughter than she could even keep track of. But a lover? A mate? Someone worth planning a life with? There was obviously a missing quality, and she had spent the last hour trying to think of what it could be, to no avail.

She closed her swollen eyes and heaved a heavy sigh.

Out of the blue, it hit her that she was being ridiculous. There was little she could do to change now, there was a war on. Maybe if peace actually came to her world she could find the time to analyze herself and figure out how to change, but now was patently not the time. It wasn't like she could spend the rest of her life hiding in a bathtub. She needed to get up. She needed to get out of the bathroom. She needed to do it _now_.

She surged forward and pulled the plug on the tub and scrambled out, grabbing a towel and taking a ineffectual swipe at herself to dry off before shrugging into her dressing gown, pocketing her wand, and snatching open the bathroom door. She stopped short as she looked up into Severus's furious eyes.

She looked back at the still draining tub and then again at him and narrowed her eyes.

"Willingness, Granger. That was a nice dramatic gesture, but I was unwilling to let the connection go. Now, you are going to let me finish what I have to say, and if you still want to sever the connection when I am done, you will have my blessing."

He reached out and took her elbow, drying her off with a flick of his wand, as he guided her into her bedroom and sat her on her bed. He locked and warded the door before calling her chair over to him so he could sit down.

"Will it always be like that?" he snapped, vibrating with anger. "With you not letting me finish a sentence when we argue, and then hiding and sulking for hours at a time?"

"No, because there's no longer cause for us to argue. Or even talk, for that matter," she responded calmly.

"Like _hell_ there's not," he shouted.

"Look, Snape, I—" Her words cut off as he spelled her mouth shut. Her eyes flew open and she lifted a hand to call her wand but saw him smirk and pat his pocket.

"As I said, you've had your chance to speak, and a very pretty and dramatic show it was. You'll forgive me if I actually use _words_ to explain myself rather than overwhelm you with guilt until you find yourself contemplating throwing yourself in front of the knight bus."

She tried to speak but couldn't even mouth words and her apology dissolved into anger. She just crossed her arms over her breasts and tilted her head, waiting. He scowled and then scrubbed at his face before he began to speak.

"I never meantfor this to happen, Granger. I never intended to take your soul. I never thought I would usurp your life, ruin your chance at a relationship with a man you chose, derail your own ambitions, or nearly compromise your friendships because of the deceit needed to harbor me until you found a way to save me. I never thought, for one minute, that your entire family would be uprooted, their careers destroyed, and their lives imperiled, because I wanted to find a better way to fucking serve _Potter_. I envisioned months, not five years. Can you understand that?"

She nodded, tears spilling from her eyes.

"I didn't plan this, Granger. I didn't even consciously plan for you to be the third choice. Do you know why I thought of you in that last moment? Because I _always_ thought of you. Because you were _there, _outside my office. In those last moments of sanity, when I feared my fate was upon me, you stretched out your hand to me and you told me to be fucking careful! You trusted me, were concerned about _me_. When I felt my soul tearing apart, I tried to find one redeeming thing about me to show I wasn't evil. All I could come up with was no matter how much of a loathsome creature I had been, _you_ thought I was worth worrying about! I flung myself at that last thought. I anchored myself to the image of you actually caring if I lived or died! And then, typical Slytherin that I am, I fucking found a way to _use _it! That's when I made you the third choice, Granger. I didn't come to care for you because of what you've done for me; I fucking ruined your life because I _already _cared for you!

"I used to watch you, Granger. I used to take pride in how much knowledge you could pack under that ridiculous mess you call hair. I took delight in pointing and nudging and guiding you towards research that could be of use, that could help guide your future, that would spur you to ever greater challenges.

"Of course, I had to hide it. I had to keep those thoughts hidden even from myself at times. I was a spy. I lived a strange and terrible life, and did things that make me feel sick even now. I was so alone in those days, Granger. I was so desperately _lonely_. I fixated on you. I kept telling myself it was only the natural pride a teacher takes in a apt pupil, or the hidden amusement at having an invisible teacher's pet, but I'm sorry to say in that last year, it became something far darker and much more disgusting than that in my dreams." He dragged his hand through his hair and looked away from her. "I would wake up so ashamed of myself. You were only a _student_. You were innocent. I felt like I had already degraded you, just by not controlling my dreams." He shuddered and turned to her, but his eyes fell away and he looked down at the floor. "When I woke up, when my mind cleared and the memories started to fall into place, when I realized how I had perverted your life's course and that I'd actually had sex with you? It was my worst nightmare come true. My years of effort trying to be a better man, a decent man, had been erased by my soiling of your innocence. "

She tried to gesture, but he wouldn't look at her. She fell forward onto her knees before him and clutched his hand in both of hers, violently shaking her head back and forth. He looked back at her and stroked a hand down her cheek.

"I'm not what you think I am. You keep making me out to be noble, and I'm not. I was a Death Eater by _choice_, until Lily was put in danger. I was selfish and ambitious and full of hate, until the only thing that was precious to me was threatened by my own, utter stupidity. I took pride in the fact that I wanted to be a better man because of Lily's sacrifice."

She waved her hands and he finally flicked his wand, canceling his spell.

"But Lily never loved you," she said softly.

He smirked and slowly swung his head from side to side.

"No. Lily never loved me. I gave her the best of me. I gave her all of my goodness, and she never loved me." He lifted his head and gave her a direct stare. "But by all the gods, Hermione, I did love _her_. It's been… very hard for me to let that go. She was all I had when I was young. Her memory was all that sustained me through the long years of my isolation. She was the only reason I changed." He hung his head. "I've been afraid to let that go," he admitted. "If I let her memory go, what will I turn into?

"I know you love me, Hermione. I used you, manipulated you, ruined your life, and almost caused its premature end, several times, and yet you still do. I can feel it." His hand lifted up and pressed against his heart. "It's what anchors my soul. I _need_ it. I need _you_. I need you so much, it shames me." His face crumpled in a rictus of pain as he continued. "I never wanted you to be trapped by me, Hermione. I took all of your choices away with my madness. I've been terrified to care for you because I feared the day you would see clearly what I did to you and hate me for it. I tried to make you hate me so we could already get that part over with. My guilt crushes me. The idea that after everything I've cost you, you still love me…" He reached out and took her hand gently and held it to his heart. "To have you care if I'm run down at the end of a day, to come home and find you've thought of me, left me food, it's too much. Your simple embrace yesterday broke me.

"I cannot express how much I regret binding you to me. But I am a broken man. I cannot seem to just walk away from you. I cannot give up how you make me feel. I'm so very sorry. I want you, Hermione. I want you so much it unmans me."

She laid her head down in his lap and wrapped her arms around his hips.

"Don't be sorry, Severus. Please stop being sorry. In all this madness, the only times I've really been hurt were when you would push me away." He placed a hand on her back and the other stroked her hair out of her face. "Why does it have to all be your mistake? Why does it have to be a dark and terrible thing that we came together? Why couldn't it have been fate? Why couldn't we have just always been meant to be together? I like that explanation so much better." She pushed back and stood up, taking his hand and pulling him up as well. "Come to bed, Severus. Neither of us slept well last night. I would like to simply hold you and watch over you while you sleep."

He let out a long, ragged breath, and his shoulders dropped as the tension melted off of him. "I would like that," he said.

She lifted up onto her toes and kissed his forehead and felt the warm, golden echo of his soul flow over her.

* * *

You know what I need…


	18. The Serpent Strikes

AN: Have I mentioned how much I lurve you all? You guys have generated 400+ reviews in three days, and kept me hopping and giggling through this self imposed insanity. *applauds*

* * *

Harry was exhausted. He looked over at Snape, who was currently scribbling down his latest notes on what he had picked out of Riddle's brain, and thought the other man looked worse than Harry felt. They had been going at it for two weeks, trying to get as much information as they could and yesterday they had struck gold. The Dark Lord had made the mistake of wondering if his last Horcrux was safe. He'd made two mistakes, he'd confirmed there was only one more beside's Harry scar, and he'd thought about where in the Outer Hebrides he'd hidden it.

Bill, Neville and Ron had gone with Remus and several members of his pack to neutralize it last night and they were waiting for confirmation before they shut down Harry's link. In the mean time, Snape and Harry were trying to get as much information as they could.

They had more than they could ever have dreamed possible in the nearly six years since Dumbledore had died and left them all without direction. They knew the location of his hideout, the security measures he'd undertaken, and nearly all the names of everyone loyal to their organization.

Snape had been a godsend. Even when he had been insane he had kept the Death Eaters' organization in chaos and the Dark Lord at a disadvantage. Returning him to his former self had come at just the right time. The Dark Lord had committed himself to a full-on confrontation just as they had learned how to drop in on his thoughts at will. Reading his thoughts had become much more difficult as Riddle bounced wildly between paranoia, gibbering fear, and murderous rage.

Harry rubbed at his scar as he felt the tell-tale sign of another rage.

"Do you want me to find out what he's mad about now? You look wiped out," Harry said, when Snape noticed his rubbing.

"Better let me, he can feel you when you look and we don't want to tip our hand too soon." Snape handed his notes to Ginny, who had taken Ron's place as runner.  
"You're too tired. We've been going for nearly thirty hours with only a few breaks. You should go home."

At the word 'home,' Snape's expression softened and Harry once again saw the almost smile that had first appeared three days ago.

"You should go find Hermione," Harry said, putting the pieces together finally.

Snape shot him an angry look, but when he saw Harry meant what he'd said, his expression turned questioning before freezing into an expressionless mask.

"Does she know how much you care about her?" Harry probed.

Snape just nodded his head.

"And you've finally figured out how much she cares about you. Good. Took you long enough."

"This… doesn't bother you?" Snape asked.

"Not now. Not after getting to know you. Not after this." He gestured at their heads. "I think if I hadn't had a chance to find out who you really were, I would have had a much larger problem. Hermione would have just told me to get stuffed. She was never one to cave in to peer-pressure, so my opinion would have hardly mattered."

Snape smirked and got up from the desk and sat in the overstuffed chairs they'd adopted for comfort over long stretches of time.

"You're sure you don't want to catch some sleep?"

"One last time and then I'll go," Snape said. "I think after this it would be best if you slept as well and then started your mental exercises and prepared to cut the connection. Let's find out what has him upset and then close up shop."

* * *

Lord Voldemort learned from his mistakes. It had taken him far too long to realize his Horcruxes had been disappearing, one by one. He'd thought them safe and protected, except for the ones that had been lost due to attrition. He hadn't discovered the truth until he'd needed more funds and had personally gone to clean out the Lestrange vault. He'd found it empty.

Torturing a few Goblins had been profitable. He'd found out that one Percival Weasley had produced the proper Ministry paperwork to confiscate the contents, and a William Weasley had been on hand to deal with any cursed items. Both of them had gone into hiding that night, and every other Weasley had dropped off the planet as well, except for the Auror, who so far had miraculously survived six attempts on his life, five of which he hadn't even known about.

At first Lord Voldemort had thought it a piece of ill luck that the Hufflepuff cup was gone, but he was a cautious man, and so had decided to check on the status of his other Horcruxes and that's when the Knut had dropped.

He'd fallen into a rage. He'd wasted no time in creating a new Horcrux, this time leaving a connection to it, so he would know its status at all times. He'd been unable to create another. He assumed the energy needed was too draining and he'd tried again too soon after the last, but had yet to be able to do so.

He'd concentrated on keeping his connection to his newest Horcrux strong. That's why he was aware of the exact moment his precious Horcrux had been moved, and knew down to the nanosecond, when it had been destroyed.

He also knew that no one else alive knew about that Horcrux. No one living knew its location. Lord Voldemort had finally met the traitor, and it was him.

He had withdrawn from his followers, locked himself away in his chambers and meditated. When he understood the nature of the problem, he laid the trap and sat back and waited.

The Dark Lord had to admire his enemy; even lying in wait, he hadn't realized they had already begun. He'd almost lost the battle before he's realized it had been joined. But as light as the man's touch had been, as focused as the mind behind the incursion was, he still made a mistake. The Dark Lord would never have realized he was being spied on, if he hadn't found himself wishing he could go home and wrap himself around a curly-haired witch.

Voldemort struck like a viper, surging through his link with Potter and into the mind of the man who had snuck in the back door.

_Snape. _Who else could it have been? This was going to be most rewarding...

* * *

Harry kept his mind focused on his construct. He sat beside a calm, clear pool and let his thoughts flow where they willed. His job was just to be a conduit, and he had learned the connection worked better if his own mind wasn't agitated.

He could see Snape's link, as a thick, golden cable that snaked across the ground and disappeared into the pool.

His eyes still saw the man sitting across from him, staring at him with an intense dark gaze, but reality faded away if it wasn't focused on, leaving Harry to loll on the banks of the pool and contemplate the nature of his thoughts.

The surface of the pool rippled and Harry turned a puzzled glance on it. A feeling of foreboding shook him and he found his construct starting to lose cohesion. Just then a monstrous serpent erupted from the pool and surged across the ground destroying the golden cable as it went.

Harry threw up his Occlumency shields and tore his mind away from Snape's, breaking their connection in time to see the man's eyes roll up as he slumped in his chair. Snape's face flushed a deep red and he looked odd, as if he'd lost control of the left side of his face.

"Ginny!" screamed Harry as he waved a Diagnostic Spell. He looked up as his wife burst into the room. "Get Molly! Snape's hurt!"

More people burst into the room.

"What happened?" shouted Tonks, running her own charms. "He looks like he's had a stroke!"

"Riddle caught us! He attacked Snape through the connection!"

Several people started shouting at once. When Snape opened his eyes and tried to speak, he couldn't be heard.

"Shut it!" shouted Tonks. "Say it again, Severus?"

The man labored for breath and his voice came out in a slurred, dry rasp.

"He'mione…"

"Bloody hell," said Fred. "You don't think Riddle—"

"—went through Snape to get at Hermione, do you?" finished George.

Tonks grabbed her medallion and sent Hermione a message. Fred and George were already on their way out the door but Ginny and Harry waited to see if Tonks got a reply. Tonks looked up from her Medallion and shook her head. "She could just be asleep…"

Harry headed towards the door with the others but Snape's fingers closed over his robes and tugged. Harry looked down at where Molly was just setting up her potions, as Snape stared at him, no longer able to speak as half of his face sagged down. His head twitched and Harry realized he was trying to tell him 'no.'

"You think I should stay and disconnect?" Harry asked. Snape jerked his head. "Then the other Horcrux is gone?" Again he jerked his head. "Alright. You just calm yourself. They'll get the Grangers out of there and I'll go jettison the connection and Ginny will isolate the Horcrux. Molly will get you on your feet in no time. Just relax."

Snape's eyes just bored into him, not looking reassured at all. In fact, Harry had only seen him look more upset once, and that was on top of the Astronomy Tower.

"Come Harry, let's go get that thing out of you," said Ginny, taking his hand and tugging him towards the door as Snape succumbed to the potion Molly had given him.

"Is he going to be alright?" Harry asked Molly.

"Yes, he'll be fine. It looked worse than it was. I've already dosed him with what he needs. Now he just needs time to mend. I've given him some Draught of Living Death, as well. As long as he rests, he should be up and about in a few days, although I strongly suggest no more mind links for a long while. I'll just get him comfortable on the bed and keep an eye on him."

The sound of more footsteps out in the hall preceded Ron's entrance into the room.

"We did it! It's done!" he said proudly. Ron's face froze as he saw Snape and took in how upset Ginny and Harry were. "What's going on?"

"We've got a situation," said Harry.

* * *

"Arthur! Hello, boys, always a nice surprise to see a Weasley. We're just about to have lunch, are you hungry?"

"No, thank you, Helen, we just stopped by to speak with Hermione, is she here?"

"No. You just missed her. She left to meet Severus somewhere."

"Did she say where she was going?"

"No. She was helping me make lunch, and then she got dizzy for a moment, and then said Severus needed her for something."

"What's wrong with the cat?"

"We were just trying to figure that out when you came in. He's been upset since Hermione left."

"Helen, you and John better come with us. I would go ahead and take Crookshanks too."

"There's something wrong with Hermione, isn't there."

"I'm afraid so. Severus had a stroke a few minutes ago. He didn't send Hermione any messages."

* * *

Hermione woke up with a groan to find herself lying in pain on an unfamiliar floor, while several unseen people laughed behind her. She peeked up through her hair to see an emaciated figure sitting in a throne-like chair dangling her medallion from a long skinny finger with too many joints.

Voldemort had lost even more humanity in this incarnation. His eyes were no longer human-shaped and his ears were gone. His lips were gone as well. He had only a slit for a mouth with an abnormally thin tongue.

"I see the Mudblood has finished her nap. How nice of you to join us, Miss Granger, or is it Mrs. Snape, I was a little unclear as to exactly what your _position_ was. Severus did put up a bit of a struggle. I must say, you're not what one would expect. Severus always preferred the red-headed whores to amuse himself with, isn't that right Yaxley?"

"Yes, my Lord."

"Tell me, what's it like being married to a madman?"

"I wouldn't know."

"Ahhhh, so he hasn't bothered to seal it with a vow. Hmm. That doesn't bode well for you, my dear. If he doesn't care enough for you, then you won't make very good bait, will you? How sad. You've just shortened your life expectancy from hours, to minutes. What can you offer me as barter for a stay of execution?"

Hermione felt her blood drain in a cold trickle down her spine.

"Nothing. I have nothing you want," she said.

"Well," said the abomination before her. "Perhaps you can just be amusing. Hmm? _CRUCIO_!"

Hermione screamed as her body spasmed in pain from thousands of hot needles being jammed into all of her nerves. She instinctively tried to curl up into a ball, but had no control over her muscles.

"Can you not save yourself, Miss Granger?" taunted Voldemort. "Can you not call out for another to come save you?"

Hermione bit through her lip and tasted the coppery blood, but she held her silence.

"CRUCIO!"

She shrieked again, writhing on the ground in agony.

"Call him! I know you can! He's how I found you. You certainly came running fast enough, you stupid fool. Call him!"

"NO!"

"CRUCIO!"

Hermione thought about Neville's parents and wondered if there was a way she could rush the process. Could she embrace madness before she could betray Severus or anyone else? She writhed and twitched and tore ligaments and muscles as her body flailed without any control. As the next wave of pain enveloped her, she opened her mind to it and tried to set herself free.

* * *

Molly and Helen were sipping tea and whispering quiet words of hope and encouragement to each other as they kept their vigil by Snape's side. John Granger ignored his tea; he just sat still as stone with an angry cat in his lap, watching the man on the bed. He felt like his entire world hinged on this terrifyingly strange and wonderful man that had shuffled into their life wearing a pink coat, holding bags of Chinese takeaway. Their daughter loved him. Apparently, he actually did love their daughter. John was sure, in some other reality, this would be a problem for him. But with everything that had happened in their lives in the last six months or so, it just seemed too much like fate for him to bother having an issue with it. He had bigger worries in his life than the fact that he was staring at the graying head of his probable future son-in-law.

His daughter was missing. John knew in his bones that Hermione was in terrible trouble. He didn't need a mental link, or some crazy magical Soul bond. He was her father and he just knew she was in trouble. He also knew that the only person who could save her was lying on that bed in an induced coma after having suffered a stroke.

John Granger continued to ignore his tea.

* * *

Ginny took several deep breaths before she raised her wand and aimed it at her husband's head. She'd spent ages working with Hermione, practicing the correct wand movements, pouring over the texts, and holed up in the sitting room talking with Dumbledore's portrait. She cut his scar until it bled, and then placed the tiny jar—made from mud mixed with Harry's blood and fired in a kiln until it hardened—against the wound and pulled her hand away. It all came down to this moment for her. She would either save her husband and the father of her children, or she would kill him.

He had told her repeatedly that he was at peace with it, if the worst was to happen.

She wasn't. Failure was not an option.

She built up her concentration, steeled her will, took one more deep breath and then cried, "_Solvonimus_!"

The spell took effect immediately, and she heard Ron swear as a dark nothingness bled like an evil ichor from Harry's wound. She increased the power of her spell, feeling the tiny shard of soul struggle as it found its freedom, but she bent it to her will and it flowed into the small jar. When the tainted darkness was free of Harry's scar she shifted her wand to the jar and shouted, "Laqueo!"

She heard a wail, as if from far away or long ago, as she swayed to the side, spent from her effort. Ron snatched up the new Horcrux with kitchen tongs and stuffed it into a small leather pouch on a string, before placing it around Harry's neck. He then healed the scar with a quick spell and woke Harry up with an Ennervate.

Harry sat up with a gasp and reached out to grab his wife's hand and squeeze, before turning to Ron and saying, "Voldemort's got Hermione. It's the last thing I saw."

* * *

John Granger hissed in a breath that caught the attention of the two women in the room with him. His wife leaned over and placed her hand on his arm before following his gaze and gasping herself.

Snape's eyes had opened, and they were as flat and lifeless as they had ever been before.

John rose up from his chair and hovered over the man on the bed.

"You must save her, Severus," he commanded. "Wherever she is, you must save her and bring her home."

He felt a surge of hope shoot through his body as he saw Snape's eyes come to life with a glittering malice that made the hair on his head stand up. Snape rose up off the bed in a smooth, almost liquid motion, and headed for the door.

Helen snatched up his cloak and wand. "Wait!" He stopped. She tucked his wand into his sleeve and placed his cloak around his shoulders, buckling the clasp and brushing at the folds before she lifted up on her toes and kissed him on the cheek. "Don't forget to save yourself as well," ordered his wife. "And try not to kill!" She stepped out of the way and Snape stalked out of the room.

"Have you two lost your minds?" cried Molly. "The man's been _tranquilized_. He's had a stroke! I've given him enough medicine to scramble his brain for another eighteen hours! He shouldn't even be _awake_ and you just ordered him off to save your daughter!"

John had a moment of doubt until he looked at his wife's face. He turned back to Molly and said, "He'll save her. We trust him," before running out of the room after Snape.

* * *

How flippin' cool was that?


	19. The Final Triumph

AN: I'm getting sad now. It's almost over...

* * *

_Hermione sighed deeply in her mind, as she felt herself floating, surrounded completely by the familiar, warm treacle that was Severus's soul. He'd flowed into her and wrapped himself protectively around her and cut her off from her body. _

_She opened her eyes and found herself on the moor, surrounded by warm, golden sunshine and wrapped in her lover's arms._

_"I have you," he said. "I'm coming."_

_"He's waiting for you. I don't want you to come."_

_"I know."_

_He squeezed her tighter, pulling her deeper into his cloak._

_"I love you, Severus. I regret nothing."_

_"And I love you, Hermione. But I still have many regrets."_

_"I know."_

_She cocked her head to the side and then looked back up at her dark god._

_"He's noticed I'm not there. He might kill me now."_

_He smirked at her._

_"Technically, you're already dead, my love. I've stolen your soul away from him."_

_"Am I inside you?"_

_"No. But then, neither am I. We are in the space between. I've hidden you in our connection."_

_"How is that possible?"_

_"Magic," he said with a smile. His head turned sharply to the left and she saw his face fill with a deadly intent she hadn't seen in a long time. "I've just arrived."_

_"Don't kill, Severus. Don't break your soul again. Not for me."_

_"There is no danger. There is no conflict. I am not caught in an endless loop of feeling compelled to do murder for a greater good anymore. Potter will kill the Dark Lord and his soul will not be imperiled. I will protect you, and mine will rejoice."_

_He seemed to blur, and then she saw another Severus, superimposed on the first for a moment, before it stepped away and disappeared. _

_He closed his arms tighter around her and she sighed._

* * *

The Mudblood slumped bonelessly to the floor when the Dark Lord ended his spell. She'd stopped screaming midway through the last bout of Crucio and now that the torture had stopped the reason appeared to be because she was dead.

Her eyes were flat and lifeless and her body didn't even indulge in the normal uncontrolled twitching that usually occurred even in an unconscious state.

"Yaxley, see if I broke my new toy already."

The Death Eater looked up at the Dark Lord and bowed before moving quickly over to the victim and kicking her over into her back. A wave of his wand and runes appeared in the air above the body.

"Limited brain activity. Reduced respiration, and her heart rate is slowing. She's either dying, or she's going into hibernation, my lord."

The minions around him all began to chuckle and Yaxley shook his head, remembering a time when they would have been too terrified to react to anything before the Dark Lord signaled acceptance. He turned his head and looked at his master for instructions and froze. Snape stood just behind the throne, staring at him with death in his crazed eyes. Yaxley panicked. He pulled out his wand, aimed it at a point just beyond the Dark Lord and screamed, "Kill the abomination!"

Yaxley never had a chance to fire off his spell. There was only enough time to realize he'd been played for a fool. There was no one behind the throne as the Death Eaters around him leaped to protect their master.

As he screamed for mercy in a room that contained none, Yaxley's eyes found him. Snape was now in amongst the spectators grinning like a madman and casting spells at the dying woman on the ground. Yaxley tried to signal them, tried to point, but the Dark Lord was in a foaming rage and the others were too eager to do his bidding. The last original Death Eater died screaming at his lord's feet while his doom stood by and laughed.

* * *

"What do you mean he's gone? I thought he was sedated!" yelled Harry.

"He was!" Molly huffed. "But then the Grangers ordered him to go save Hermione and he just went!"

"What, just now?"

"Yes, that's what I'm telling you!"

"Right. Then we've got to follow him. Does everyone know the location? Good. Lavender, you have the children. Everyone else, let's move out!"

* * *

Harry Apparated into an abandoned warehouse that was in utter chaos. Spells were flying in every direction and the first order of business was to get everyone's shields up. It looked as if Death Eaters were firing hexes and curses almost at random, as they fought against an unseen force on the far side of the open space. It wasn't until the crowd surged apart to avoid a Killing Curse that Harry realized most of the spells were bouncing off a single shield against the wall on the other side of the room.

Snape howled in fury as he stood with one foot on either side of Hermione's body while the twitching Dark Lord dangled from his hand by the neck. Snape's wand poured a steady stream of magic at the shield he maintained around the three of them. Harry had never seen anything like it. The shield rippled with a honey-colored aura and seemed to only gain more strength with each attack. Death Eaters were going down left and right from their own ricocheting spells, trying to free their lord.

"Holy hell!" shouted Neville. "Would you look at that?"

"Gods, Harry," whispered Ginny. "It's his soul! Hermione told me what it looked like. He's using his own soul to shield her!"

"Excellent, but it's Voldemort's soul that we've come for," Harry hissed.

He signaled to Ron, who nodded and started his group moving across the floor, incapacitating Death Eaters who were slow in realizing the dynamic had shifted. A nod sent Kingsley and Tonks moving out on the other side with Bill, Percy, and Charlie, as Harry started up the center with Ginny, Minerva, Neville and Arthur. Remus arrived with his pack and they surged forward with feral glee since it was dangerously close to the full moon.

Fred and George covered Molly and Ron's assault, picking off targets in concert as they cut through the crowd. Kingsley's group had a different approach, gouging up the floor underneath the Death Eaters and throwing the chunks into the crowd, herding them back towards the center, Minerva transfigured Death Eater robes into masses of stinging scorpion-like creatures, and the first rank of foes scrambled back and hindered the spells of their fellows behind them.

The loud pops of Apparition behind him brought twenty fresh Aurors from the Ministry. They fell into place behind the Order members and added their shields and their aim to the fray.

The Death Eaters rallied when they understood the new threat. The fight was joined in earnest. Momentum was on the Order's side as they moved ever closer towards their lone member on the other side of the room. Remus and his pack threw themselves into their midst, firing off curses and following up with a pummeling physical assault that seemed to throw the other side into confusion. Harry aimed his wand ahead of him, working in concert with his wife to incapacitate everyone between him and the Dark Lord as fast as possible. Minerva went down with an oath, but Arthur shouted a counter-curse and she struggled back up to her feet in fury. More people started to go down around him, but Harry didn't spare a glance, knowing how easy it would be to lose his purpose. As long as he saw his wife next to him, he could go on. The screams and shouts of the people around him became deafening, as more and more hit the floor and they were taken out of the fight.

He reached up and snatched the leather pouch off of his neck, as a channel opened up between him and Voldemort.

"Snape! Let him go!"

Snape didn't even acknowledge him, he just flung Voldemort through the shield towards him and then bent down and scooped Hermione's stiff body up off the floor. Harry realized she'd been petrified as Snape tried to cradle her unbending form against his side. He poured even more power into his shield, creating a ball of solid amber leaving only shadows visible inside.

Harry tracked the Dark Lord's fall and saw him reach out and catch himself as he recovered from Snape's spell. The monster lacked all dignity and grace as he scrambled back up to his feet and screamed at his followers to protect him.

"Voldemort!" Harry bellowed. "_FACE ME NOW!_"

The thing that used to be Tom Riddle turned his head and shrieked in rage when he saw his nemesis. He lifted his wand and screamed the Killing Curse, but at the last second, his wand shifted and the curse flew at Ginny.

Harry didn't even take time to blink, he just threw the leather pouch into the path of the curse and watched as the broad green light condensed down on the small bit of soul contained within. He shouted in triumph as the Dark Lord killed the last loose piece of his own soul.

Voldemort staggered as he struggled to understand what he had done and Harry didn't hesitate, as he took him down with a Reducto. He poured all his years of anger and all his years of pain into the spell that blew Lord Voldemort's body to ashes.

* * *

_"It's done," he said. His words were softly spoken but the moor trembled with his pride and triumph. _

_Hermione felt herself start to cry, even though she couldn't ever recall being as happy as she was now._

_"You were magnificent," she whispered._

_"Only because you believed in me, Hermione. I was what you needed me to be."_

_She pushed out of his arms and looked up into his shining face, stroked the gray hair at his temples._

_"You have always been what I needed. You always will be."_

_He quirked a smile, and for an instant she saw the ghost of an innocent little boy, proud of himself for pleasing a grown up._

_"It is time to return you. As much as I find our hideaway desirable, you cannot live forever petrified, and I prefer a living, breathing woman in my bed, not a ghost."_

_His words sparked a memory and she stepped farther back and tilted her head as she looked at him. _

_"It's you. You're still inside."_

_"We are all here. It was the only way he could save you. We felt your pain, but he was injured. Letting you die was not an option, so he gave up control and absorbed his injury into his core, freeing us to do what needed to be done."_

_"Will he be alright? Do I need to put him back together again?"_

_"We will be fine, Hermione. We just need sleep and time to mend." He reached out a hand and caressed her cheek with his knuckles. "Thank you. Thank you for being who you are. You were everything that we needed you to be."_

_She bit her lip trying not to sound as insecure as she felt, as she asked, "And Lily?"_

_"Lily was a powerful beacon showing him where to find the light, but he's found a new beacon. If you give him time, he will bind himself to you for eternity. He will always carry the guilt for his actions, but he will not risk his chance with you because he cannot face his past." He smiled conspiratorially and added, "He's too stubborn when he knows what he wants, and remember, you won over his stubbornness."_

_"I admire stubborn. I can be pretty stubborn myself," she said. _

_"Thank the gods for that, because we needed you to not give up on him. He's still fragile. That's why he was able to shatter himself and let us take over so easily, but that will fade in time. You make him stronger."_

_"Is there anything else I should know? Anything he needs me to do? Can you tell me something that will help me make him happy?" she blurted._

_The Snape before her smiled deeply and brought his hand up and traced a finger down her cheek and across her lower lip._

_"He likes when you touch him. It makes him feel real."_

_"Are you still his will to survive?"_

_"His will to survive is anchored on you, and currently holding the world at bay. I am his duty."_

* * *

Harry and Kingsley supervised, as the Aurors started to Portkey away the captured Death Eaters. More of them had chosen to fight to the death than surrender, so the prisoners were mostly those that had fallen in battle early on and been petrified. Neville had gone on ahead to start processing them at Azkaban.

Several pops signaled the arrival of Healers and Nurses from St. Mungo's and Remus gave a shout, while holding the still bleeding Tonks in his lap. The medical team split up and began to tend the wounded. Unsurprisingly, most of the fatalities were among Remus's pack. They had displayed a shocking lack of self-preservation in the battle but their ferocity had been a much-needed edge. The survivors huddled behind Remus as he tended his mate.

Arthur was minding Minerva, who was pretty sure she'd broken her hip when she'd fallen from a hex in battle, and was rather vocal in her annoyance.

George was the first patient transported away. He'd been hit with a blasting hex, but Fred's last-second shield had deflected most of the worst of it. Fred had been full of insults and jokes, but had not let go of his brother's hand as they Portkeyed away to the hospital.

Ginny held vigil by Snape's shield. It was still a solid ball of magical energy that defied diagnostic spells, although Ginny performed them constantly, scribbling notes down on parchment she'd borrowed from an Auror.

"Hermione would want to know," she'd said in a slightly hysterical voice, as if planning to give Hermione a report on Soul Magic would ensure that Hermione was actually still alive to receive it.

Harry and Ron both drifted back to her side. They all waiting in silence for some sign that Snape had succeeded in his mission.

With no warning, the shield collapsed with a loud bang that startled everyone in the room and caused Harry, Ron and Ginny to slap their hands over their ears from the popping caused by the momentary vacuum.

Harry saw Hermione lurch a step before she reached out towards Snape, who went down like a felled tree, dragging Hermione with him.

"We need a Healer here!" shouted Ron as he dashed over to help her roll Snape over. "Are you alright?" he shouted to her, as she spasmed and shook.

"I'll live. Crucio, mostly. What happened to Severus before he came to save me? That's what's wrong with him now," she said.

"He had a stroke," replied Harry and he scuttled out of the way to allow the Healer access. "Molly had sedated him and already dosed him with Healing Draughts. He shouldn't have been able to even roll over, never mind get up and go after you."

Hermione allowed Ron to pull her back as the healer demanded more room. She stood up, leaning heavily on Ron and turned to Harry.

"You did it Harry," she said. "It's over."

The four of them stood there and stared at each other and it finally hit him. He turned to Ginny to see her trembling with tears streaming down her eyes and he pulled her into a hug, reaching out to his two best friends.

"Yeah, we did it, didn't we?" he asked.

"Yeah, mate. We're done," said Ron dragging Hermione into the group hug.

The four of them clung to each other as the adrenaline finally faded and the reality took hold.

The Healer was about to activate a Portkey to send Snape to St. Mungo's but Hermione stopped her.

"I'll take him home," she said. "He just needs rest, right?" The Healer nodded her head, gave her a few instructions and then hurried off to the next injured party.

"Take him to Headquarters," said Harry. "There will be enough people there to watch over you both."

Hermione gave him a grateful smile.

"I'm very proud of you, Harry." She looked at Ginny and Ron and included them as well. "Now we all have to figure out how to live happily-ever-after, don't we?"

Ron smirked and jutted his chin at Snape as Hermione levitated him off the ground and wrapped her arm around him to Apparate. "Harry and I have already been planning ours. Looks like you got a late start, but you'll be fine, yeah?"

"I think so," she said, with a secretive smile.

She gripped her wand and spun into a turn.

* * *

Hermione arrived on the front steps of Grimmauld Place and collapsed. She had been determined to get her man home, but her strength failed her. She was pinned between his body and the steps and felt half crushed. She summoned the last of her energy and cast a charm to halve his weight. She cradled him against her body and thumped on the front door with her elbow.

The door whipped open immediately and she looked up to see her father's worried expression morph into joy and then back to concern.

"You shouldn't have answered the door, Dad," she scolded him weakly.

"Wounded have been arriving for the last ten minutes, there was no one else available. We were told you won, so I took a chance. We need to move you, before someone else lands on top of you. Helen! She's here!"

Hermione's mother came running into the doorway and burst into tears. Hermione was shocked. She couldn't ever remember seeing her mother cry before.

"My baby!" she said and threw her arms around her daughter's head. "We knew he would save you! Is he okay? I told him not to kill, but then I was so scared that I had made a mistake and I shouldn't have said that."

"He's fine. You did fine," Hermione replied.

"Are you alright?"

"Of course she's not alright; she's got a grown man squashing her against the steps! Help me get him off of her," her father snapped, in his 'I'm Not Panicking, Damn It' voice.

Her mother blanched and jumped up and grabbed Severus under his arm, while her father grabbed his other. On the count of three, they flung themselves backwards, having expected him to be a lot heavier. They ended up sprawled in the hallway with Severus on top of them and Hermione had to bite her tongue to keep the hysteria from taking over.

"I have _got_ to feed this man," her mother grumbled, as she wiggled back out from under him.

"I'm sorry, I should have warned you. I'm not thinking clearly," Hermione said.

Helen left Snape for her husband to lift, and came back for her daughter. "Can you stand, darling? Here, hold onto me."

Hermione helped as best she could as her mother levered her off the steps. The two women followed her father down the hall to the stairs, as he carried Severus in his arms, head cradled to his shoulder like an enormous child. The sight brought tears to Hermione's eyes and she found she couldn't stop crying.

* * *

Hermione opened her eyes and found Snape looming over her, resembling a Gothic gargoyle. He opened his mouth to say something but closed it again and his face flushed, as he scowled.

"Good morning," she said with a smile as she stretched, dislodging Crooks from the pillow next to her. She stroked him and he flicked his tail at her, as she pushed herself up on the bed to lean against the headboard. "How are you?"

Snape's eyes seemed to catalogue her every feature before he bothered to reply.

"I'm perfectly fine. Molly has been dosing me with my own foulness since I woke up."

"Ah, so you came in here to hide?"

His eyes glittered with mirth for an instant.

"No, I came to spread the joy. Open up." He handed her several vials and gestured to the glass of water on the nightstand. She grimaced, but reached for the first one. "You will be happy you did," he assured her. "Between the potions and a decent meal, you will be fully recovered quickly. Drink those; I will inform your parents you are awake. They have been worried." He headed towards the door.

"How long have I been asleep?"

He turned back and replied, "Two days. I kept you under until the worst of the damage from the Crucio was healed."

"Oh. Thank you," she said quietly. He gestured to the vial in her hand and she nodded.

He was right, between the potions he had given her and the food her mother had brought up with her, she felt almost good as new. She took a quick shower and had a nice long chat with her parents, followed by a quick visit with Harry, Ginny, Ron, Neville, Tonks, Remus, the twins and Molly. Snape had stood in the corner the entire time and when he started to pace agitatedly, she feigned tiredness and they all took their leave as she climbed back under the covers. Severus held the door open and had a quick stare down with her cat. Crookshanks gave a little trill and sauntered out the door as if that had been his plan the entire time. The door was closed, locked, warded and silenced before Severus turned back to her and just stared.

She fidgeted with the edging on the blanket.

"When I woke up, it looked like you wanted to say something, but then you didn't," she said. "What was it?"

He flushed again and walked over and sat down next to her on the bed. He heaved a sigh and then brought his head up and looked at her.

"I love you," he said. "I wanted that to be the first thing you heard when you woke up, but I… lost my nerve."

Joy infused her entire being and she suddenly felt she would float off the bed, so she reached out and clasped his hand to anchor herself.

"Thank you," she whispered. "Thank you for loving me."

He looked sad for a moment. "I should be thanking you, Hermione. I should be falling at your feet and thanking fate for your patience. I'm so—"

She lifted a hand and pressed it to his lips.

"If you ever say you're sorry to me again, let it be for something new," she said.

"Gods, woman! I don't ever want to have to say I'm sorry for something new," he said with feeling.

"You will, and I will too. That's life, Severus. And I want to share my life with you."

He let out a deep sigh and closed his eyes, slowly falling towards her as she caught him in her arms.

"I love you, Severus."

He turned in her arms and brought his lips to hers and whispered, "Thank you."

He kissed her. It was a slow, timid kiss, and yet full of intent. He pulled back frequently to stare into her eyes as if to make sure he was still welcome each time. She slid a hand behind his neck and slanted her mouth across his and deepened it, and his breath chuffed out.

He broke the kiss and leaned back and pulled off his outer robes, and she slid to the side to make more room for him, pulling the blankets aside as he toed off his boots.

He made to slide in next to her, still wearing his trousers and shirt but she stopped him. Reaching down, she pulled off the over-sized t-shirt she was wearing and whispered, "The rest of it."

He blinked, before his eyes skimmed down to her breasts and his mouth opened slightly. He straightened up and began to unbutton his shirt. Hermione knelt up on the bed and watched as he stripped. Her breathing quickened.

He was staring at her intently, eyes flickering at each of her unguarded responses. By unspoken agreement, they both kept their connection closed, as if knowing exactly what the other felt was somehow cheating in what had suddenly become a sort of test of trust and honesty. When his shirt was off, revealing his pale and slender chest, he began to unbuckle his belt, flicking a glance at her legs and jutting his chin slightly. She lifted up on her knees and slid her knickers down, and his eyes seemed to smolder, as he pulled apart the buttons on his trousers. He shoved his trousers and pants down over his hips and let them fall to the floor, and her own mouth opened and she found it suddenly hard to breathe. She reached out to touch him, to caress his hard length, as he pulled his legs out of his pants, leaving his socks behind on the floor as well. When her hand wrapped around him he hissed, throwing his head back and pushing himself farther into her hand.

He wrapped his own hand around hers and tightened it, stroking himself with her a few times before pulling her away. He climbed into the bed and held his hands out to her and she slid into his embrace with a sigh.

They began to make love, only using their bodies and their breathing to communicate. This time there was no mad rush to merge, no quick and nearly violent race to the finish. Severus took the time to slowly explore her body, his reactions and thoughts hidden and private, and Hermione basked in his attentions. He chuckled, a low and sexy sound, when he discovered she was ticklish, but made sure to avoid repeating that touch.

Their excitement began to reverberate between them and they both tried to slow it down, not wanting it to take over. He learned her secrets and exploited them gently, coaxing her to higher levels of arousal as if fascinated by her response. Her own hands explored him in return, his body familiar, but his responses not. He thrilled her. This gentle, patient man, was new to her, and when his skilled fingers began to send her coiling tighter, she found herself chanting his name over and over in her head.

Her fingers closed tight around his wrist, almost inhibiting the very caress she thought she couldn't live without and she finally broke the silence.

"Yesss," she moaned, and heard him croon a reply as his fingers picked up the pace. He leaned down and caught her mouth and she groaned as his tongue slid against her own.

"Come for me, Hermione," he said in a low rumble against her lips. The sound of her name, said in those tones, by this man, was all it took to toss her over the edge. She came with a soft cry, and felt her ecstasy spill over the link as he groaned above her.

He swept an arm under her and pulled her farther down on the bed as he loomed over her, he leaned down and kissed her lips, her neck and then opened his mouth and took as much of her breast as he could inside, as he positioned himself between her legs and lowered himself down.

She reached down and grasped him, giving him several teasing strokes before guiding him to where they both needed him to be. He lifted up on his arms and slowly sank into her body. She watched in fascination as his eyes fluttered shut, and he made a sound close to a whimper. The room filled with their harsh breathing and the sounds of his body connecting with hers.

His eyes opened and he looked deep into her own.

"I have no money," he said.

"We'll earn our keep somehow," she replied.

"I have no home to offer you."

"Your home is with me."

"I don't know how to be what you need."

"Be who you are, Severus. Your soul is so beautiful, it is enough."

His face crumpled, and he dropped down and kissed her passionately. He began to thrust harder into her, his hips now slapping against her thighs.

"Share your life with me, Hermione," he begged. "I'm frightened of my own and need yours to teach me."

"There is nothing to fear. I will keep your heart safe."

"I need you, Hermione. I need you so much it scares me."

"I know."

His face looked troubled and she felt his thoughts nudging to be allowed in, so she opened their connection and accepted what he couldn't put into words. And there, she saw the heart of the matter. His eternal fight between his baser nature and his need to be a better man. Part of him wanted to pin her to the mattress and fuck her, use her, spend himself selfishly inside her, and then hide her away from the world so no one else could have her until he wanted to use her again. Another part wanted to spare her the pain and disappointment of binding herself to a broken man who could only give her his battered heart and a pocket full of lint. He couldn't find any middle ground. She felt his despair at not being able to be a better man.

So she fully opened her heart and offered him a third choice: to be accepted for everything he was, and anything he wasn't, and have it be enough.

She also asked him to selfishly pin her to the bed, since that was what she wanted most at the moment. He growled and did just that, stealing her breath away with his unrestrained need until he came with a furious shout.

Hermione held him as he struggled with the emotional aftermath, closing the connection to allow him his privacy, as he pulled himself together while clinging to her. She knew time would close this wound. He had lived a life filled with emotional extremes that had created a terribly insecure vulnerability.

She silently vowed to herself that she would find a way to help him realize he already was the man he wished he could be.

* * *

One more to go…


	20. Binding the Bonded

AN: To any of you SS/HG old-timers with better memories than I… Does anyone know the name of the first fic that dubbed the Grangers John and Helen? I would love to give an attribution, but I have read those names so often they have become canon to me, and I don't know where it popped up first.

On a sad note: We come to the end of our frenetic tale…

* * *

_He found himself alone on the moor. It had been over six months since he'd been here last, and he felt uneasy to be here again. Was something wrong? Was Hermione in danger? Why had he been brought to this place of hers? He spun in a circle but saw nothing else for miles. He tried to force himself awake, knowing it was just a dream, but failed. He reached for his link with Hermione but found it blocked. An icy hand clawed at his heart and a terrible dread filled him._

_He forced himself to calm and reached again for his connection to the woman that should have been lying next to him in bed, feeling the shape and solidness of whatever was blocking him from her. _

_The scene shifted and he found himself in the narrow corridor he'd always used to return to the castle after a meeting with the Dark Lord. This same thing was blocking his way. The tunnel was dark and dank and the smell of mildew was cloying. He tried to push his way past, knowing he needed to get to the hidden door to his classroom before something dreadful happened. _

_He cried out when the block turned into a body and he felt a woman in his arms. His hand filled with long silky hair and a scent, long forgotten, filled his nose, bringing a flood of memories with it. _

_The light of understanding flared bright and he looked into a calm, placid face, dominated by kind, gentle green-eyes._

_"Lily," he whispered._

_She smiled at him, tilting her head to run her cheek against the hand still folded in her hair._

_His heart started to pound as she took a half step closer to wrap her arms around him._

_"Lily…" Her scent, jasmine and heather, became overpowering and he tried to turn away, tried to find clear air, but he only found the rotting stench of mildew._

_He pushed her away._

_"You are in my way," he said. "I must get past, I have something to do."_

_She didn't answer. She just smiled and stepped closer again, reaching out to grasp him. Trap him. Keep him from where he had to be._

_"No," he said, backing away. She followed slowly, her eyes filled with a love and acceptance that had never been there in life, and he continued to back away down the narrow tunnel._

_"I need to get past!" He snapped, growing angry, but she continued to herd him in the wrong direction._

_Fear clawed at him, he was being pushed farther and farther from where he was needed. From his duty. _

_From Hermione._

_As if naming his lover brought him strength, Severus stopped his backwards retreat._

_"Get out of my way," he hissed in a low voice._

_Lily stopped and dropped her arms, looking at him with the same, sad disappointed look that had been burned into his psyche by the time he was sixteen, and he faltered._

_"I'm sorry," he said. She raised her arms with a smile and beckoned him and he felt as if he was compelled to embrace her, but he set his shoulders and lifted his chin. _

"_No." _

_He reached out and grabbed her hands and pulled her, turning at the last moment and shoving her behind him._

_"You are in my way," he enunciated with heated impatience._

_She wailed and flew at him, her hands curled into claws, and he brought his arm up to protect his face as she attacked him._

_"Faithless!" she shrieked._

_His chest constricted painfully and he realized he couldn't breathe. Hands beat at him as he struggled to find air. His lungs felt like they would implode and he finally dragged in a deep breath of her cloying stench and gagged._

_"I'm done with you!" he bellowed. "You are in my way!"_

_He shoved her violently, throwing her to the floor. When she landed, she morphed, twisting and changing, until he was looking at himself, sprawled on the floor, a younger, craven lunatic, spitting hate and obsession._

_"Faithless!" his younger self shouted._

_"Fool!" he shouted back in fury. "I have no need of her, and I have no need of you!"_

_Severus turned on his heel and strode up the tunnel until he reached the hidden door that led to safety. _

_Sanctuary. _

_Home._

_He shoved open the door and turned just as his craven, younger self flew at him in a rage. He slammed the door closed and felt a sudden tearing pain. He pushed through the pain and dropped the bar on the door. He heard the mad howling on the other side and shuddered. Lifting his wand, he Vanished the door, leaving nothing but a blank expanse of stone wall in its place. The screaming stopped._

* * *

Severus sat up with a gasp, clutching his head against the pain, and sending a pulse of need and terror through the reopened connection. Hermione cried out in her sleep and pushed herself up out of the blankets in a panic.

"Severus?"

She threw herself at him, lifting up on her knees and pulling his head against her bosom.

"What happened? Are you alright?"

He shook in her arms, clutching at her as if he could press her into the new and dark, empty place and fill it with her light. His lungs gulped in deep breaths of her scent, her shampoo, her soap—her fresh, _cleanness_—mixed with the lingering traces of their lovemaking hours before.

He couldn't find the words to explain, so he sent it all through their connection, his isolation, his fear, his entrapment and the ultimate exorcism of a part of his self.

She crooned reassurance, and when she saw the image of his younger self, sprawled on the floor and shouting filth, she hugged him even harder to her chest.

"I know him," she said. "I almost left him behind." She pulled back and sank down on her ankles, cradling his face in her hands. "But he was a part of you, and I accepted the whole. He's gone now, but you haven't lost anything, Severus. Your love for Lily will always be there; it's just healthier now. She's not lost, my love."

Her words and her unconditional love poured into his soul like a balm, and he sagged against her.

She was perfect. She was his everything… this living, breathing woman in his arms, who had gone through hell for him and never asked for anything in return.

He took another deep breath and lifted his head.

"Marry me, Hermione," he said, reaching up and stroking his thumb across her cheek. "I want you to marry me."

His heart swelled to see her face glow with happiness.

"If you are sure you are ready, then of course I will marry you," she replied.

He pulled her into his arms and laid her down on the bed and then kissed her. He covered her with his body, reveling in the warmth of her pressed against him and silently began to make love to her again, telling her with his body what he couldn't express with mere words.

She welcomed him inside her and he knew there was no better place in the world than here in her arms He loved her with his entire being, as he shoved himself between her thighs to get closer to her beautiful, perfect soul. As he emptied himself into her incredible warmth, he felt her light and delicate bubbling soul flutter against his own, and together they cried out as they merged in every way possible.

He cradled her body against his and wrapped himself around her. Their love and contentment slid languorously back and forth across their connection, as they settled and fell back to sleep.

* * *

The carriage yard was lit with fairy lights and sparkling streamers, and filled with love. Friends and family mingled happily, waiting for the ceremony to start.

Helen Granger, proud in the Wizarding robes Molly had helped her purchase, looked around and saw everyone was here.

She turned her head and nodded to Arthur, standing in the doorway, and he nodded back and disappeared.

"Into your seats everyone!" called Molly. "It's time!"

Helen admired Molly's organizational skills, but was grateful that she'd never had so many children that she had to develop them herself. God bless every single Weasley, but if Helen had had that many children, she would have taken an axe to her husband's bits.

No. She only had the one child, her beautiful Hermione, and now she was about to watch that child bind herself forever to the pale, thin man that was now exiting the house behind Harry and Minerva as the crowd settled.

Severus looked magnificent in his black velvet robes trimmed in silver. He radiated a nobility that made Helen's heart fill with pride.

This last year hadn't been easy for him. Helen hadn't realized how insular her experience of the Wizarding world was. Her only contact had ever been with Order members, whom she considered the cream of the crop, now that she understood better.

The rest of the Wizarding world had hardly been forgiving or welcoming to the man that had been their idea of the perfect nightmare for five solid years. Severus Snape was considered worse than Voldemort in most circles, because Voldemort had spent the last years constantly trying to regain strength, while the insane and monstrous Potions master, had terrified the country. The fact that he had only harmed terrorists was lost, due to the brutal nature of the executions. Few thought him deserving of his pardon, but the Order had triumphed.

Severus was free, but he was also a pariah.

The idea that this gentle soul would be feared and despised infuriated her.

More than once, Helen had wanted to go to Diagon Alley and just start laying about with her handbag.

This past year had been both hard to watch and beautiful to witness. Severus struggled in silent dignity to rebuild a new life for himself, taking on contracts as a potions supplier and suffering the indignities involved in his rare forays out into the Wizarding world, without complaint. Where he really shined, was in his relationship with Hermione. He was as steadfast and protective of her as ever, but in a way that both encouraged her independence and celebrated her achievements.

Hermione and Ginny Potter had both started working at the Ministry, researching Soul Magic, and Hermione had quickly proven herself. She was frequently asked to lecture on the subject at symposiums around the world. Severus seemed to quietly deflate when she was gone, and it usually took a full day before he would let her out of his sight after she returned.

Helen thought it was adorable.

John Granger had worried that Severus was too undemonstrative and reserved, right up until he made the mistake of wandering into the kitchen for a glass of water in the middle of the night and everyone found the downside of silencing charms.

The two men didn't make eye-contact for a week, while Hermione blushed and giggled whenever her mother asked her to set the table 'with plates, this time.' John had later confided that Severus was rather impressively demonstrative, and the two of them as tittered themselves into a fit until the cat flicked his tail in both of their faces in reproach.

Helen and her husband had eventually bought a new home with their "insurance money," and became partners in their friend Russell's clinic, taking over most of their former patients.

However, they both felt like their old lives were no longer enough. The new house was empty of any soul, with all of their possessions and mementos destroyed. And they had both felt like their practice had become just a thing they were supposed to do, and not something they enjoyed. It had only taken about six months for them to decide to pack their few things, sell their stake in the practice to a very nice young man, and show up on their daughter's doorstep again.

She still smirked when she remembered Severus whipping open the door, wand in hand, and the way his face tilted to the side when he saw them. He'd just eyed the cat carrier and their car full of luggage, stepped back, and gestured towards their half of the house, saying "You remember the way, I trust?" And that was that.

The John and Helen now had an exclusive practice of working with the homeless, and helped Severus with his business as a potions supplier whenever they could. John oversaw the bookkeeping and gardens and Helen pitched in with chopping, mashing, shredding and could even julienne—although when she'd branched into Tourné cutting, Severus had been eloquent in his disapproval of her attempts to 'make it look more festive.'

She adored him. He was irascible, broody, much too old, and rather homely, but Helen Granger thought he was perfect for her daughter.

She watched him as he stood there, managing to look aloof, irritated, and nervously awkward all at the same time, while he surveyed the crowd. Everyone here knew him and knew he was a good man, but it would be a long time before Severus was comfortable in a crowd, if ever. He turned his head and saw her, and the irritated expression on his face softened and he lifted an eyebrow. He gave her a small smile before nodding his head to her and turning away. Helen flushed with pleasure, feeling a special thrill at being one of only a small handful of people worthy of his esteem. The rest of the Wizarding world could go stuff themselves.

Music swelled and Helen rose with the rest of them. When the gathered all turned to see her husband and her daughter standing in the doorway behind Ginny, Helen kept her eyes on Severus. She was sure she was the only one that saw his face as his bride appeared. His quiet smile, before he closed his eyes briefly and sighed deeply, spoke volumes if you understood. His shoulders relaxed briefly, and he stood just a little straighter, held his chin a little higher, and his eyes became just the slightest bit moister. Helen smiled in satisfaction and turned to see her daughter.

Hermione was loveliness itself, in her ivory robes, threaded with gold. She wore a small, glittering tiara, nearly hidden in her mass of chestnut curls, pinned so that they piled up on her head and cascaded down the side of her neck. Her eyes were locked on her groom, and she looked like she was on the verge of shoving her Bridesmaid out of the way and dragging her father along behind her.

John looked incredibly sexy in his dark-blue robes, and Helen had every intention of chasing him down as soon as they had a chance to be alone.

Helen blinked and brought her attention back just as John placed Hermione's hand in Severus's own. Helen beamed a watery smile at her husband as he joined her, and he slid his arm around her waist and pulled her tight against him.

Minerva raised her hand for silence, and began the ceremony.

"Ladies and gentlemen, we are gathered today, as friends and family, to witness the bonding of Severus Snape and Hermione Jean Granger…"

John pressed a wad of tissues into her hand and Helen tried to mop at the tears she couldn't seem to stop. They were so happy. You could see it in the way they both seemed to utterly ignore the official words and just spoke to each other with their eyes. Hermione vibrated with a pent up energy that Severus seemed to just absorb.

Sighs were heard all around them, and a loud sniff from the very pregnant Tonks drew a murmur of amused support from her husband, Remus. Molly cried almost as much as Helen, and Arthur's proud smile was only slightly dimmer than John's.

Severus brought her hand up and stroked it with his thumb, before sliding a simple silver band onto her finger while reciting, "I, Severus, bind myself willingly, and unreservedly, to you, Hermione. I will love you and cleave to you in all things, forsaking all others in your name. I will protect you, and support you, through illness and health, through poverty and wealth, with my magic, my body, and my life, until that life ends. Will you have me?"

"I will," Hermione choked out, squeezing his hand tightly. She reached back and took a ring from Ginny and lifted Severus's left hand with her own.

"I, Hermione, bond myself willingly, and unreservedly, to you, Severus. I will love you and cleave to you in all things, forsaking all others in your name. I will protect you, and support you, through illness and health, through poverty and wealth, with my magic, my body, and my life, until that life ends. Will you have me?"

His smile was transcendent, and many in the crowd gasped as he murmured, "I will."

Minerva smiled and raised her wand over them both and said, "Then I declare you bonded. You may kiss the bride." A shower of silver and gold sparkles burst from the Headmistress' wand and cascaded down onto the married couple as they kissed. The guests burst into applause and several flashbulbs went off as the music picked up. Hermione turned and beamed at her parents, as Harry shook Severus' hand and babbled happily at him.

The food was exquisite, the music was marvelous, the company both enchanted and enchanting. The bride and groom danced as graceful as angels, light and dark. They both glowed and everyone commented on it, this illogical couple that seemed so perfect together.

As John twirled her one more time around the dance floor, Helen looked about and realized that her daughter's world had become her own, and all of these people were her family.

"How strange life is, that I feel like I've finally come home on the day I've officially lost my daughter," she said to her husband.

"Now, now, luv. We didn't lose a daughter. We've gained a misanthrope, and a damned fine one at that."

The two of them laughed as he twirled her one last time and the music faded. John pulled her into his arms and hugged her tight as another waltz began to play. A deep voice interrupted them, and they turned to see Severus holding out his hand.

"May I have this dance?" he asked.

John bowed her away and Severus swept her up into a waltz.

They danced together in silence for a few minutes before Severus finally spoke.

"Thank you, Helen," he said.

"For what?"

"For everything. For Hermione. For being who you are." He smiled sardonically. "For rats in the cupboard, and for finally giving up on trying to feed me to death."

She blushed. "Well, honestly, Severus. Can you blame me? With everything that you have gone through in your life, this unnatural thinness just seemed like some physical symptom. I didn't have magic to be able to fix anything else for you, but I could try to feed you up a bit."

He gave her a dazzling smile.

"I thank you for trying. And you are quite wrong. You did much more than I could ever repay, that night you let a dangerous madman into your home," he paused and gave her a devilish look, "pink coat and all."

"You remember the coat? We all swore we'd never tell you!"

"I remember the coat. It was rather warm." He gave her another fleeting smile and then flushed. "But not as warm as your home. Thank you for allowing me in."

The music ended and they swayed to a stop.

"That was mutual, Severus. I would say that you let us in as well." She hugged him quickly and then pushed back. "No go. It's time you and your bride were leaving."

He gave her a small bow and left her to join his bride at the edge of the dance floor. Hermione waved to everyone and there were plenty of shouts for health happiness and some ribald bits of wedding-night advice that made Severus scowl and Hermione laugh, and then the happy couple disappeared with a soft pop.

"And that's that," said John as he wrapped his arm around her waist. "I thought they'd never leave. Now I can get rid of these other tossers and have my way with you. You've been distracting me all night with how scrumptious you look in those clothes."

She gave him a girlish giggle, as they turned to the rest of their guests. "I'll meet you on the kitchen table later," she whispered.

"You're on," he said in a raspy voice.

* * *

The sun rose slowly over the moor and the gentle breeze tossed her tangled curls playfully about her face. She swept a hand around and pulled it to the side as she walked out into the morning air. Another gust tossed the hem of her nightgown around until it twisted around her legs and tried to trip her. She bent down and tugged it free with a muttered oath. A low chuckle behind her made her spin.

Severus leaned against the doorframe wearing only his pajama pants, with his arms crossed over his narrow chest.

"That never happened in our dreams," he said drolly.

She smiled and held out her hands to him. He pushed off and strolled slowly to her side.

"I don't remember the stones being so sharp underfoot either," he added.

"Sometimes they were," she said musingly, as he wrapped his arms around her. "But this is so much better than dreams."

"That it is, Hermione." His hand swept up and down the curves of her body, chasing the slight morning chill away and raising bumps across her skin at the same time. "That it is." He kissed her ear and murmured, "Come back to bed, wife. I'm not done with you."

She smiled and turned towards him. "That's a very good thing, my husband. Because I will never be done with you."

The sun blazed forth across the horizon, bathing the lovers in a warm, honeyed gold as they made their way back to the small cottage they had chosen for their honeymoon.

The door closed with a soft thud as the wind once again rose up and danced away across the moor.

~finite~

* * *

AN: Thank you to all my beloved readers. This has been just about the craziest thing I've done in ages, trying to post twenty chapters in three days while editing at the same time. You have all made it a labor of love in the sincerest meaning of the phrase. You have made me laugh, made me think, made me feel humbled, offered to feed my wee waifs, and given me some serious encouragement as far as writing goes. I adore you all.

I have one more story to spam up, but I am going to wobble over to the couch and sleep for two days first.


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